Surrender
by Honeycomb Milkshake
Summary: His thumb ran carefully over my scars. "You won't ever have to feel that way again." Our eyes met. The emotion that passed through the connection seared me. "I believe you." Sam Uley / OC
1. Chapter 1

**Hello, my loves, and welcome to Surrender!**

 **I've actually wanted to do a Twilight fic for a long time, and I've debated so much with myself over who the fic would focus on. It was a toss-up between Jasper, Paul and Sam. My three favourite characters. Clearly, Sam won that little debate. Maybe my next fic will be a Jasper or Paul fic. We'll see, aye?**

 **The first thing I'm going to address is how we're going to get around Emily Young. I do love Emily. She's a great character. But so is Sam, and Twilight touched so little on him. It's sad, really. So much happened to Sam, and so little was said about it. What I really want is to be able to explore that, and since I have a deep aversion to writing any canon character pairing fic, I'm doing that with an OC. Sam will meet (and imprint on) this OC minutes after he finally shifts back to a human for the first time, weeks before he even would even meet Emily in canon, or find out what imprinting is. That's how we're getting around that. How are we gonna get around the Claire situation? Who knows. We'll work it out.**

 **The next is the rating. I try to strive for realism in my writing, or as close to with vampires and werewolves running around the town. Peggy is an adult. An adult that has been through a _lot._ So there'll be a lot of themes in this fic that aren't particularly happy or kid-friendly. Peg also has a particularly loose tongue.**

 **I hope you all enjoy this one.**

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 **Disclaimer:** I don't own Twilight or anything recognisable that could be mentioned in this fic. If it's recognisable, it's not mine

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 **Warning:** This fic will contain some dark themes. Abuse, self-harm and suicide will all be mentioned in this fic, in varying degrees of detail. Please be aware of that going into this fic. If you don't want to read about any of these themes, please do not go on.

* * *

 **Surrender  
** _Twilight_

Sam Uley / OC

* * *

 _Strength does not come from winning. Your struggles develop your strengths. When you go through hardships and decide not to surrender, that is strength._

\- Arnold Schwarzenegger

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On a sunny day in Forks something strange had to happen.

It was an unwritten, but very much enforced, rule of the town.

 _Screaming. Blood slick on the steering wheel. Shaking. No!_

The forest was bright around me, beautiful green filtered through the canopy above, and a fresh breeze ruffled the tumble of rusty curls I had attempted to tame with a hairband. My boots slogged through the mulchy carpet of degrading leaves. Once upon a time, I had hated that feeling. Now I'd come to enjoy the squelchy feeling. It was satisfying.

A smile came to my lips as my boot sank particularly far into the muddy mass, and I pulled it free with a wet squelch. The black leather of my boots was covered in a thick layer of brown goop. That would be a bitch to clean off.

I felt like a child playing in the mud. So much lighter than I used to be, just a year ago.

 _Worried gold eyes. Shaking. Burning. Save me, please!_

Despite the fun playing in the fun, I _had_ come to know a lot about the woods in this past year hiking the area. Enough to know that the sight I stumbled on after rounding a tree was certainly not the norm. Especially this late in the year.

A good twenty feet away from my current spot, sat in the undergrowth with his back to me, was a stark naked man.

I will admit that I had seen naked people while hiking before. A few times during the summer past, I'd stumbled on hastily put up tents with couples of many ages enjoying each other's company. I'd seen more than my fair share of lily white asses high-tailing it away from me to hide when I stumbled on them. It happened at least once a month. It was embarrassing for all parties involved, I promise.

This was different.

This guy certainly wasn't here to enjoy a stolen moment in the woods with a lover away from prying eyes. There was no camp in sight; no partner in a loving embrace. He was hunched over alone, trembling. In November, I wasn't too sure whether I could chalk the trembling down to something scary happening (which was quite possible - it only took a stroke of bad luck to encounter a bear here, even this close to a defined trail) or the cold.

"What the fuck," was the first thing out of my mouth, before sense kicked in. "Hey, you okay there?"

The guy snapped around, his eyes wild, body tense. His gaze combed the area and found me, but his eyes didn't raise any further than my feet, and the trembling started anew a moment later. No answer to my question.

Now I was worried.

I took a few cautious steps forwards, and my voice dipped into a more serious tone. If this guy was in trouble, we needed to get past the awkward questions stage and get him some help. "Are you okay?" I asked again, inching closer to him.

He scrambled back away from me when I came to about five feet away from him, back hitting a tree behind him.

This close I could get a better look at him.

The deep brown shade of his skin and angular planes of his face had him pegged as Native. More than likely from La Push, but I'd come far enough down the 101 that he could be from the Hoh Reservation. We weren't too far from the mouth of the river here. The Reservation was probably only an hour walk from here, as the crow flies.

My assumption on his state of undress had been right, I realised, diverting my eyes respectfully, even when he didn't cover himself up. The guy was naked as a jaybird, but he didn't make any move to remedy that, clearly still deeply affected by whatever had put him in that state.

He was tall, too, I noted. He was still sat down, but this guy was definitely taller than I was. At six foot one myself, I wasn't exactly short. I'd bet my left tit that he had a few inches on me, too. I didn't see that often.

My hands came up in a show of innocent intentions. "Hey, hey, it's okay." I tried to throw as much calm into my voice as I could. I didn't want him freaking out anymore. "I wanna help."

"I-I'm fine," he insisted. His voice was deep and rough, adding to the whole tall, dark and handsome package he had going for him. It was full of stammering fear, though. My heart clenched. What had happened to this poor guy that he was as scared as he was?

Clearly, he wasn't fine, but pushing him into a confrontation in this state wasn't going to help him at all. "Okay. Do you want me to give you a ride somewhere? My car's just a few minutes that way." I gestured vaguely behind me. We weren't that far off the trail, and we could probably get to my car in ten minutes tops. "I can run you to the nearest hospital. Or back home. Hoh? La Push?" I hoped I wasn't being an ignorant ass here. For all I knew he could have lived in Forks, or somewhere else around here. Was it shitty of me to just assume that he lived on a Reservation?

He still wouldn't meet my eyes, but his gaze had lifted from my feet and hovered somewhere around my stomach. "That- Yeah. A ride back would be great. La Push. To La Push." His answer was disjointed, but he was actually talking now and there wasn't a stammer to his words anymore. That was a definite plus in my books. He wasn't trembling as much now, either. Good.

I'd kind of hoped he'd taken up my offer to take him to a hospital, rather than back to La Push. I wanted to make sure he was okay, but I wasn't going to force him to go to a hospital if he didn't want to go. There had to be a doctor in La Push, though. If he was in trouble, he'd get help from them, right?

I hoped so.

He rose to his feet in a surprisingly fluid movement, then threw off any awe I may have had by pitching to the left with an unsteady step.

I lurched forward to grab him, hoping I could at least attempt to steady him. He was heavier than me and I wasn't exactly strong.

I'd misjudged his height, I realised, when I had to look up to gauge how well he actually was. He had to be six five. Maybe even taller. I wasn't sure I had ever met a man that I actually had to look up at like this. It was an interesting novelty.

His hand came up to assure me he was okay, just as mine found his elbow to steady him. His skin was burning. How he could remain as warm as he was, stark naked in the middle of a Washington winter I didn't know, but he really was boiling hot.

He still wouldn't look at me. His eyes had found something interesting on the ground by our feet, and there was a trembling in his limbs again.

Gauging that he was okay to stand by himself, I took a step back to give him some space. "La Push," I agreed. "C'mon, then. Let's get you to my car." And more importantly the thick blanket I kept in the back of it with all my camping gear. It wasn't often I did decide to camp out when I hiked, but the camping gear was an almost permanent fixture in the back of my car. I was thankful for it now. This guy needed to cover himself, stat. Before he froze anything important off.

We began a slow pace towards the car. I was making it a point to walk a little slower and keep an eye on him. He wasn't staggering anymore after that first lurch but I wasn't convinced that he wouldn't fall faint again.

"So, what's your name, stranger?" I asked a couple minutes into our hike, when he hadn't volunteered any conversation. I was a chatty person. I liked filling silent gaps with something - mindless chatter, humming, singing; just something. Now wasn't any different. I couldn't keep myself in check. The silence was just awkward, filled with too many loud thoughts between the two of us. This guy was clearly trapped in his head, and I was avoiding that trap myself.

There was a beat before he answered. "Sam. I'm Sam." There was a strange note to his introduction. There was something deep and emotional and unsettling about the way he said it. Too firm, like he was reminding himself rather than telling me.

"Well, Sam, I'm Peggy, and we should step it up a notch. _I'm_ freezing my tits off, so who knows how you're feeling." I was half worried that he'd lose toes, or something a little more important if he carried on in the buff for much longer. I didn't have any plans to be privy to a guy losing his nuts to the cold. Not today.

There was a little quirk to his lips, a trace of humour amongst the bleak emotion weighing him down in response to my joke, but no other response as we found the trail, and soon after my car.

A low noise of appreciation sounded from the man beside me. "That thing's a beast. _That's_ your car?" Of course it would be a car that got him offering up his own conversation.

A part of me preened. Who didn't like their car being complimented? "Yupp. That's my baby girl." My baby, a '77 Toyota BJ40 in faded red, sat waiting for us by the side of the road, looking quite magnificent. In my eyes, at least. And, it looked like, in the eyes of my companion, too. "She's my favourite, but don't tell the bike. She get's jealous." I dropped Sam a little wink as I sifted through the deep pockets of my pants for my keys.

I hopped up into the back when she was opened up and began rooting through the piled up camping gear for the blanket. When I found it, I shook it out, dubbed it free of any crawlies, and handed it off to Sam.

He immediately looked a little more comfortable when he wrapped the blanket around himself.

I slid out of the car and slammed the doors shut, heading round to the driver's side and jumping up into the cab. Sam scooted into the passenger side and we slammed our doors shut in unison. "Heater's broke, so the blanket's gonna have to do for now, and the radio decides on the day whether it's gonna work or not. It wasn't feeling it this morning. Hope you don't mind the silence."

My baby roared to life when I turned the key and a smile came to my lips. I'd had this car since I'd passed my test seven years ago, and I still couldn't get over how gorgeous she sounded when she came to life.

"No. Silence is- It's fine." He belted up, then pulled the blanket tighter around himself to make sure he was definitely covered.

 _Compassion. Stark bandaged. Blood stains. Stitches. Would you like to talk?_

"Good." I bounced in my seat to get comfortable, then we were off. "You'll have to give me directions when we're closer." I'd lived in Forks my whole life, and like most teenagers back in high school, sunny days had enticed me over to First Beach with classmates, and occasionally we'd gone camping along Third Beach, too. But since I'd started commuting up to college in Port Angeles daily, and life had taken a harsh hold of me, I had precious little time to myself. The La Push beaches hadn't really factored into my life then.

Maybe soon I'd make a point of going hiking to Third Beach again. It'd be something new to do.

We chatted pretty idly in the twenty minute drive to La Push. Or rather, I chatted idly, and Sam sat quietly, occasionally pitching a few words into the conversation, but mostly just stared out of the window at the passing landscape until we turned down onto La Push road. Then Sam guided me through the community, right to the far end, to a little cluster of houses right on the edge of the reservation.

Muttered thanks and goodbyes were exchanged, and Sam slid out of the cab, slamming the door closed behind him. He strode around the front of my truck without looking back at me and made his way towards the house furthest from where I'd parked.

I watched him for a moment, debating with myself. I should let him go, let him forget about the last twenty minutes and work on getting over what had upset him. That's what most people would do.

No, that was bullshit. Most people would have insisted on taking him straight to the hospital and getting him checked out.

I groaned and let my head drop back, hitting the headrest of my seat.

I couldn't do it. Couldn't leave it be. The haunted look that had been in his eyes had gotten to me and I couldn't let him leave without addressing it. Fuck my life, I couldn't keep my nose out of anything.

With a new purpose, I unbuckled my seatbelt and flipped the old lock on my window and pushed the glass down into the door with a firm shove. "Hey, Sam!" I called out, hoisting my upper body out of the window to catch his attention.

He span around, and our eyes met for the first time.

"I don't know what happened out there, but you can pull through it," I assured him. There wasn't anything people couldn't pull through if they put their mind to it. When I had worn a haunted expression like that, I'd wished for someone to tell me that. I wasn't going to let him go without hearing it. Maybe it wouldn't make a difference, but maybe it would.

I couldn't chance it.

"You're in a bad place, I can tell. Don't let it beat you, Sam."

His lips parted, but no noise came from him. The shock was still prevalent. He took a step towards me, then stopped again. He looked dumbstruck. I hope it was a good dumbstruck. I hope my words got to him. Helped, even if only a little.

"Don't let it beat you," I repeated firmly, eyes firm on his. Then I dropped back into my car and raised one hand in a wave.

Goodbye, Sam. Good luck.

 _Healing. Scars. You'll pull through this, Louise. Pain. Hope._

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 **And that is a wrap for the first chapter. A little short, but its the setup for the rest of the fic. The next chapter will be longer.**

 **Thank you all for taking the time to read this. I hope you enjoyed it. I would love any feedback you'd be willing to give!**


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter two is here! Thank you to everyone that stuck it out for the first chapter. Your support is greatly appreciated.**

 **Marigold's is a fictional place. I sort of imagine it to look somewhat similar to Merlotte's Bar and Grill from True Blood, sadly with much less attractive uniforms. Pitty Peggy here. No one should have to wear bright yellow pants. No one.**

 **I'm gonna be honest here and say that the most difficult part of this chapter was trying to stick to Americanisms rather than veering off into _my_ English. It was so weird calling it cilantro! Peg _is_ Irish, though. Well, her Grandfather was. She will come out with some actual _English_ English phrases eventually, but for the most part I'm trying to stick to a more American English way of speaking. I hope I do okay. Don't be afraid to tell me if I fuck up with that!  
**

* * *

 **Surrender  
** _Twilight_

Sam Uley / OC

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 _In the sweetness of friendship let there be laughter and sharing of pleasures_

\- Khalil Gibran

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A grimace had become permanently affixed to my face.

For the past hour, I had been an unwilling witness to the harsh gossiping of the women of Forks, herded together in one of Forks' favourite watering holes: Marigold's Bar and Grill. I was used to Marigold's being the source of the town's gossip mill. Particularly when Patty Gerandy and Anna Stanley were in the same building. As luck would have it, they were sat at the same table.

My luck ran dry. I couldn't escape hearing their gossip. I sported Marigold's uniform: a white t-shirt, with a bright marigold flower embroidered on it; a gaudy pair of yellow pants; and a tight, overly cheerful smile. That last one was the most important part of the uniform. All waitresses wore the same tense smile almost as often as we wore the ugly yellow pants.

I still struggled with listening to it all - the gossip. I was a fairly blunt person. I didn't bother gossiping about things when I could just ask people what I wanted to know. Having to deal with the petty whispers was the most straining part of working here for me. I held my tongue a lot.

As the only waitress on duty for at least another two hours, I was the lucky person that flitted in and out of the gossip session currently being had by Patty Gerandy and Anna Stanley.

Their topic of conversation today? The Cullens.

I shouldn't have been surprised. In a town this small the gossip was limited - not to say that there was ever a dry spell because there wasn't. There never was. But there were very few categories that the gossip fell under. Usually, the categories consisted of the family of beautiful creatures that had moved in just over a year ago, or me.

 _Eyes. Watching. Always watching. Whispers. Leave me alone!_

I was just lucky that the gossip about me was usually held in until I wasn't around. Even Patty Gerandy had enough tact to not gossip about me too openly in my presence.

"What do you say, dear? You've been friends with Doctor Cullen since- well, you know..." Patty trailed off purposefully, patting my clothed wrist with a tentative look as I refilled her coffee for the third time since she had come in this morning.

The grimace on my face tightened further on reflex.

Perhaps I had been wrong about Patty's grasp of the conversational taboo of the town. _Don't talk about what happened to me until I'm not in the room._ Just my luck.

"I wouldn't want to talk about their private lives, Patty," came my quick, quiet answer. It was well practised by now. Many people had come to me wanting to know about the Cullens after they found out about my friendship with Carlisle and Esme. We'd become friends after good Doctor Ice Cube had saved my life, on his first day of working at Forks Community Hospital. His bleeding heart hadn't let him set me free after the surgery, and we'd just grown closer in the year since then, and soon his wife had joined in on our little camaraderie. People jumped aboard that opportunity like you wouldn't believe, sniffing around for things to talk about. They were always severely disappointed about my tight-lipped responses to their questions.

Like all others before her, Patty fell silent and that was the end of the gossiping for now.

At least until I turned my back again.

I span away from the table and strode towards the kitchen hatch quickly, pulling down the sleeve of my shirt absent-mindedly.

"Please tell me you're leaving Patty's salad as long as you can," I asked the diner's cook and my closest friend - Chrissy Dugan - as I began loading plates of waffles and pancakes onto a serving tray. It wasn't much in the way of revenge, but it was enough to mollify me for now, no matter how petty it was. It was the way of the waitress.

Chrissy blew me a kiss as she stirred a big batch of the soup of the day. "For you, honey, I'll even give her the wilty leaves and dry chicken."

That was why I loved this woman. Chrissy was the best co-worker you could ask for. She had your back no matter who you were targetting or how petty your desire was. " _You_ are a star. Love you, Chris." I winked back at her and flounced off with a spring in my step to serve the Weber table their brunch.

As I was asking them if there was anything else they needed, the bell above the entrance rang. Brilliant. More customers. I'd like one quiet weekend without a hundred people to serve with a smile on my face. Was it too much to ask for? A day without it all.

Of course it was.

With a steadying breath, I made my way towards the new customers as they took a seat in a booth, scooping up two menus on my way over to them.

I recognised the taller of the two right away.

Sam.

It was hard to miss someone so tall.

It had been almost a month since I had found him trembling in the forest and returned him to La Push swathed in one of my camping blankets. I had to say he was looking better now. He wasn't trembling, and he didn't look so haunted as he had that day. He was smiling at his companion; dressed in a pair of jeans and a Queen band tee. Short-sleeved. No jacket. Maybe the lack of season-appropriate clothing wasn't a one-off, even if it wasn't quite so extreme as the last time - buck naked in the middle of November. It was just over a week until Christmas, for Christ sake. Who wore t-shirts without a jacket this late in the year? Crazy people.

There was one thought that ran through my mind above all others as I looked at him.

Whatever had been haunting him hadn't beaten him yet.

His companion was just as breathtaking as he was. She was tall for a woman - maybe five nine or ten- with the dark, sharp features of the Quileute people. Her hair was long and flowing free, and the expression on her face was downright heartwarming as she grinned up at Sam, folding her skirt carefully under her as she took a seat.

"Good morning. Welcome to Marigolds. It's good to see you looking well, Sam." I smiled at the two of them and set down their menus.

Both their dark eyes turned up to me. The grin that spread across Sam's face was bright. "Peggy."

I was a little surprised he remembered me. He'd been more than a little out of it back then. Warmth spread through my chest. Maybe I'd made an impression on him. It was a nice thought.

The woman opposite him cleared her throat. "Who's this, Sam?" Her voice was tense. Jealous girlfriend. That was clear from a mile away. I kept quiet. I wasn't good with the whole insecure, jealous girlfriend bit.

"Leah, this is Peggy. We met during a hiking trip." The lie was fluid but it threw me for a loop. _Why_ was he lying about it? Oh, well, duh. That had an obvious answer. I doubted he went screaming from the rooftops that he had a fright out in the woods and ended up being found by a random hiker and escorted back to La Push in his birthday suit. But the look she gave him definitely wasn't the look of a new date. These two had been together for a while, for sure. Why would he hide what happened to him from his girlfriend?

And there went my nose, sticking into places it shouldn't be again. Reel it in, Peg.

Well, if he was lying, I wasn't gonna call him out on it. "Sure did. A little while ago now. Nice to meet you, Leah." I smiled at her, and after a moment of appraisal, she gave me a hesitant little smile back. No foul play here, sister. No worries. "Can I get either of you anything to drink while you're looking through the menu? Our soup of the day is carrot and cilantro."

Sam ordered coffee, black one sugar. Leah ordered soda.

When I returned with their drinks, they put in their orders. It was a bit of a shock. Sam ordered three meals. I didn't know whether I was impressed or disgusted, but I put them into Chrissy with a little nudge to prioritise them. Sam was a pretty good guy. Right now I definitely liked him a little more than Patty Gerandy, who still hadn't gotten her salad yet.

I made another coffee round through the diner and took and gave out a few orders - including, eventually, Patty's salad - before I made my return to Sam's table. Leah was giggling as I set down her burger and fries, and Sam had a grin on his lips that crinkled the corner of his eyes. It lit up his face in an incredible way. I wasn't sure that I liked the emotion it brought out of me. Taken, Peg. Get the fuck over it. "One burger for the lady, well done."

Leah thanked me as she reached for the salt shaker.

"And for Sam, we have one reuben, hold the sauerkraut." As I stretched across the table to set down the first of Sam's plates, his hand rested on my forearm. I hadn't realised that the sleeve of my work shirt had ridden up until I felt the rough pad of his thumb run over a thin, long scar across my wrist.

 _Scratching. Stitches. Let it heal, Louise. Cold fingers. Gentle touch._

Heat pulsed through the scar and my breath hitched in a sharp gasp. My eyes shot up to his face as I pulled my hand from his grasp. He was looking down at my wrist, his brows draw together in a tight furrow.

"Sam?" Leah asked, her voice tight. _What the hell_ was clear in her tone. Same here, sister. What the hell?

Sam cleared his throat, hand retreating to his lap under the table and eyes turning away from the two of us. His face was drawn into a tense scowl.

Well, this had gotten awkward quick. "One burger, medium rare," I listed off in a pitched voice, setting that plate down in front of him. It was best to just push on and pretend that didn't happen. I cleared my throat before speaking again, not liking the waver in it. "And one soup of the day, extra cilantro. Anything else I can get either of you?"

They both answered in the negative.

"Sam, what the hell was..." Leah's sharp hiss of a whisper faded away as I scampered off.

What the fuck?

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"Seriously, man. It was fuckin' weird." I waved my hand in a 'hold on' gesture as I took a sip of my cider. "Like, he just touched 'em. Who the fuck just reaches out and touches someone else's self-harm scars? There's no way these bastards can be anything other than that. Like, a complete stranger's, too. What the fuck?" My right hand slapped the scars on my left wrist. Chrissy was one of only a handful of people that I didn't mind seeing my scars. I never felt the need to pull down my sleeves and hide from her.

Chrissy listened to my rambling and gave a slow nod, eyes on the scars that marred the detailed inkwork on my skin.

The two of us were lounging on one of the outdoor tables of the diner, after close. We caught up like this often after work. We'd crack open a cider each, and chat. Sometimes we'd take the party over to Chrissy's forest-side home afterwards.

"Well, you said he was the guy you found in the woods, right? Maybe he's not all there in the head? People like that struggle with social taboos, right? There's your answer. Shame, though. That guy was fucking smoking."

No, that didn't seem right. I guess I couldn't say with certainty. I'd only known him for a whopping half an hour, really. But the way he spoke to me in the car, and the way his girl had reacted to him grabbing me in the diner made me think he was usually pretty normal. If he wasn't all there, wouldn't his girlfriend have had a different reaction? Been more... accepting of the weird?

The _messed up in the head_ theory wasn't sticking for me.

No, Sam wasn't messed up in the head. I was sure of it.

"Nah, I don't know, Chris. He doesn't strike me as touched in the head. It was just weird. Y'know?" I pushed my left sleeve up and ran my fingers along a couple of the scars, then began to trace the inked flowers broken up by them. "It's the first time someone's touched them besides Doctor Ice Cube. It just freaked me out."

What freaked me out the most was how warm the touch was.

The damage left behind along with the scars left my hands constantly cold. Poor circulation. Carlisle's hands were always even colder than mine, no matter how poor my circulation was that day. The cold touch, his and mine, always numbed the scars. Numbed the horrible feeling I got when I looked at them, even if just for fleeting moments. Left me feeling blissyfully empty.

Sam's touch was completely the opposite. It was so hot. It made the skin come alive in a way that it never had before. The touch felt... incredible. It drove away the dark emotions in a way the cold never had, leaving behind warmth in its wake. Something good; pleasant. I hadn't felt that about my scars before now.

I traced the memory of the warm touch with my thumb.

I was thinking far too much into this. _Fuck._

"-Ggy? Oi, Louise!" Chrissy barked, jerking me from my thoughts.

I shook my head, and hopefully the thoughts from them. "Fuck _off_ , calling me Louise."

She didn't look apologetic, just shrugged her dainty shoulders. "You were floating in the sky, Starman. Had to resort to drastic measures." She tipped up her cider bottle. Empty. We'd be moving on to a different ventue soon. "You totally have the hots for him. Were you picturing him naked? I totally was."

"What? Chris!" My voice was positively scandalised. "You'd know if I was picturing him naked. I'd be drooling!"

Chrissy snorted. That set me off. We laughed good and hard together.

It took a good couple minutes to settle. Especially when Chris began the silly caterpillar dance of eyebrow wagging, and sharing her thoughts on what she'd do to Sam herself given a chance.

"Hey, look It's getting real dark and I really don't want to get rained on, or snowed on. Back to mine?" Chrissy asked, pushing herself to stand, and brushing her brown hair back over her shoulders.

"Uh, no. No, I don't think so today. I just wanna head home."

The look I got was careful. "Is that a good idea?" I never denied coming to her place. Clearly, that denial meant something was wrong, and wrong was always considered catastrophically bad now.

That irked me. I got it; the eggshells that everyone seemed to be walking on when they were around me. I really did. I wish I didn't and could be indignant about it.

 _It had been a year since it happened. If I hadn't tried again in that year, it wasn't going to happen again. Lay the fuck off._

But I _could_ understand, so I couldn't justify getting angry. I just knew I was more stable than some people wanted to believe I was. Sadly, even Chrissy still didn't believe I was okay.

"If it's a black day..." she continued cautiously.

"It isn't," I assured, and I was speaking the truth. I wasn't the happiest right now, but it wasn't a black day. I was safe and I wasn't going to dance around like a monkey to make people believe that I was okay. "I'll see you tomorrow."

She was still cautious, but Chrissy relented after a long staring contest that she ultimately lost. I'd gotten good at staring contests. The only person I'd lost to was Doctor Ice Cube.

We shared a hug and kissed cheeks, then parted ways with a promise to see each other at work in the morning. Chrissy made her way to her car, while I began down the side of the road. I tried to walk to work whenever I could. I had my car and my bike, but the exercise did me good, whether it was hiking across the peninsula, or strolling across town. The ice that had coated the roads this morning had prompted me to walk. I didn't have snow chains on my baby yet, and I wasn't going to risk the ride. Walking had been the best option this morning.

There was a short stretch of forest between the diner and the road that led towards my house, and I bumbled down it with my hands shoved into my pockets. It was a chilly night, and frost-covered leaves crunched under my shoes.

I searched for my earphones in the deep pocket of my jacket. "Where are you...? Ah!" I pulled my ipod from the depths of my pocket and began to unwind the earphones.

Music was playing in my ear a moment later.

A shiver ran through me when a harsh winter wind whipped at me. My shoulders pushed up to my ears, and I groaned in displeasure. It was too damned cold.

 _What you gonna do when the hounds are calling?_

Something shifted in my peripheral, and I came to an immediate stop, looking around with furrowed brows. At first, I thought it had just been that wind ruffling the trees. I'd 'seen' things that go bump in the night in every shadow once upon a time. Most the time they weren't anything. The times that they were something, it was usually a particularly active squirrel or a stray cat. Nothing to be worried about.

But then the light of the moon reflected off eyes, less than ten feet away from me. My breath hitched. Those eyes weren't human.

 _What you gonna do when the hounds are calling?_

Whatever it was, it was big. Not a deer. Was it a bear? _Fuck._

 _No. No, it couldn't be_ , I assured myself, forcing myself to calm down. I could see the lights of the town up ahead. There was no way a bear was so close to town. It had to be something else.

What it was, I didn't know, but it couldn't be a bear.

I took a deep breath and slowly stepped forwards. I could see the almost fluid movement of that dark fur moving in the shadows. That first step was soon followed by a second, a third, then more as I hustled towards the town.

It wasn't a bear, but I still didn't trust it.

I was about a minute sprint from the safety of the town. A wild animal wouldn't follow me down the streets. I just had to hope I was quicker than whatever it was could attack.

I didn't stop until I barrelled into the side of a building, scraping up my hands on the rendering of the wall.

When I turned around, eyes scanning the trees, there was nothing there. I couldn't see anything. The dark fur and shining eyes weren't anywhere in my sight.

 _What the fuck?_

* * *

 **And that's chapter two! I hope you all enjoyed!**


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter three! Boom!**

 **I'm really having a lot of fun writing this. There's no stopping me, guys! I'm breezing through writing these chapters. They're so fun, too. Even though I'm not quite sure whether I'm getting Sam down right. There's very little to work with through the books. I'm taking a lot of his personality influences from how he's described in the Illustrated Guide - very honest, steady, but right now conflicting with himself. I'm not too sure how I'm doing, though. What do you think?**

* * *

 **Surrender  
** _Twilight_

Sam Uley / OC

* * *

 _The journey of a thousand miles begins with one step_

\- Lao Tzu

* * *

"Hey, Peg?" Toni called out as I buzzed past her with a pile of dirty dishes. Toni was a cute-as-a-button senior at Forks High (Go Spartans!) and the newest member of our little team here at Marigolds. This was her first job, taken at the insistence of a concerned father wanting her to grow up without being too sheltered.

"Sup, babe?" I paused in my stride. I tilted my head towards her, giving her my full attention. It was a slow day. Sunday mornings usually were. I could afford to stop and chat with her without worrying about a dozen tables needing refills. "What can I do for you?"

I set the plates in my grasp down onto the kitchen hatch. Chris waved at me from her spot leaning over a big pot, and I waved back at her.

Toni threw her hand up towards the diner floor. "There's this, like, _really_ hot guy sat at one of the tables asking questions about you. Like, when do you get off work and stuff."

"What?" I gave a start, shoulders tense. Who the Hell would be asking after me? I didn't like the answer, or the face, that sprang to mind. I fucking hope it wasn't him that was asking after me. I'd done so much to get away from the slimy bastard. "Which table, babe?" I forced myself to keep my voice light, but I wasn't sure I succeeded.

Toni was starting to look nervous. "Table seven. You okay, Peg? You look like you saw a ghost."

I felt like I'd seen a ghost, and I hadn't even seen him yet.

"Yeah, I'm fine," I answered absently, waving a hand at her dismissively as I peered from behind the pillar hiding table seven from view. I wanted to get a look at him without him seeing me. Then I was gonna run like hell to Chief Swan.

My eyes searched the area for table seven.

Relief flooded me like a tidal wave. The broad back of the person sat at table seven was very recognisable, and very much not who I thought it was. No need to kick down Charlie Swan's door.

"Fuck," I breathed, a hand coming up to my chest. My heart was beating a tattoo against my ribs. _Shit._

Confusion came after the relief. What the hell was Sam doing here asking after me?

"Toni? You get his order yet?" I asked her, leaning against the pillar.

"Ya-huh. Black coffee-"

"-One sugar," I finished with her. I remembered his order from yesterday. " Anything else?" _Just the coffee, Peg,_ she replied. "Okay, thanks, babe. You go on ahead with the rest of your tables. I'll get this."

It took seconds to make up his coffee.

Sam was playing with the salt shaker on the table when I approached him, carrying the mug. "A little birdie told..." My voice trailed off.

At the first sound of my voice, his head had snapped up and an incredible smile bloomed across his face. The one that made his eyes crinkle at the edges. The one filled with adulation, that I had last seen being given to his girlfriend, just yesterday. Part of me warmed over, being a recipient of such a smile. When was the last time anyone looked that happy to see me, Esme Cullen and her sheer joy over any life non-withstanding? I couldn't recall. Another part of me was confused. This guy had a girlfriend, right? Shouldn't he be giving her this look, like he had yesterday?

I cleared my throat and tried again, setting the coffee down in front of him. "A little birdie told me you're asking on my shift times." I popped my hip and rested a hand on it, a single brow arching upwards. I'll admit, I practised that one in the mirror for hours in the past. If The Rock could do it without looking stupid, so could I. It had taken a long time to look as smooth as The Rock. "Want to carry on asking Toni over there, or do you want the answer straight from the horse's mouth?"

I expected some embarrassment after that comment. A ducked head, flushed cheeks, maybe a quiet apology. It was how people usually reacted. I wanted to shame him for asking around about me. The rest of the town seemed to. I didn't need any more people doing it. If I could discourage it, then I damn well would.

I got nothing of the sort, though. He leaned back comfortably in his seat, his smile dimmed slightly, but no less happy. "The horse's mouth is good. When do you get off work? We need to talk."

 _I don't know you at all, do I, Sam?_ I questioned myself, appraising him carefully.

I wanted to figure him out.

"Seven," I answered after a pause. "I get off at seven. Be here then and we can go walk through Tillicum and _talk_. Sound good?"

I wanted to figure him out, and the best way to do that was to talk to him, so that was what I was going to do. Get to know him.

He gave a nod. "Sounds perfect."

* * *

I flicked the ash from the end of my cigarette, exhaling a cloud of smoke.

A tuneful humming rendition of _Drunken Lullabies_ filled the air as I leaned back against the damp wooden panelling that covered Marigold's exterior.

"I know you're all about not going out on a school night," Chris began from her spot beside me. The two of us were on our three o'clock break, sat out back on upturned crates. She held up her finger up to silence me before I could even open my mouth. "But Lord of the Rings is on tonight, and I _know_ you don't want to miss seeing Viggo Mortensen in leather and I wanna see my boy Orlando as a blond. The only choice we have here is to crash at mine and watch it together, right?"

That was fighting dirty and the bitch knew it. I wasn't strong enough to pass up watching Lord of the Rings, even on a school night.

Not usually, at least.

"I can't."

Chrissy threw up her free arm. "Oh, come _on!_ It's Viggo fucking Mortensen!" Like that was the best reason she could give to make me cave. Any other day it would be. There was something about that man... _Mmmm_.

"Look, I'm not backing out for the reason you think, babe. I am all for seeing Viggo Mortensen in leather and dealing with your creepy obsession with Legolas, but I already have plans tonight. I can't ditch them for Middle Earth."

That had her interest. In the years we'd been friends (and it had been many years since a scrappy little Freshman Peggy had stood up to a group of assholes bullying a shy Senior Chrissy and kicked off our rather interesting friendship) I'd only ever made plans on a school night on two occasions: when I was going through my rebellious phase and ditched school the next day, or when I was being pushed to against my will.

My rebellious phase was long over now.

"Do I need to punch someone?" she demanded.

That brought forward a laugh and a very fond memory.

Walk around like you own the place and the world is yours, _my father had told me the night before my first day at Forks High School. Like all fifteen-year-olds, I had a pretty good case of the first day jitters, despite knowing, at least at face value, everyone in the town. There'd be no one new, and I doubted there'd be any difference in the way school would be from middle school. Yet I had been so nervous that night that it had driven me to tears._

 _That advice had stuck with me, so when I walked up into the parking lot of the school the morning after and witnessed two older students throwing around a bright pink backpack that clearly didn't belong to either of them, I strode forward with purpose._

 _The girl that was trying hard to get her backpack back in her possession was small and mousy. I could tell she was half a foot shorter than my already tall five foot nine. She was perfect bully-bait._

 _I didn't like it._

 _The rhythm of my boots against the gravel was interrupted only to snatch the bag from the air between the two men. One of them was shorter than me. The other was at perfect eye level, and we matched glares._

 _"Do I need to punch someone?"_

"No punching necessary, babe," I assured with a little smile. My thumbnail flicked against the butt of my cigarette, sending more ash fluttering into the breeze. "Sam came round earlier, asking after me. He wants to talk. We're gonna go walk through Tillicum and talk after I get off."

"Sam? Touched in the head Sam?" she squawked.

Of course that's how she would remember him. "He's not touched in the head!" I shook my head at her in exasperation. This was probably going to be a long-standing argument. I could see it going on for a long time. "Next time I promise I'll sit and listen to every single fantasy you can think up about Orlando Bloom, but tonight I can't."

And I hoped that the next time I couldn't either. Chrissy was very imaginative with her fantasies, and she didn't let anything slip past her when she was sharing those fantasies with me. I knew far too much about what she'd do with Orlando Bloom if she ever got a chance with him.

Her face pinched into a frown.

This was another moment where I wish I could be indignant but knew exactly why she was reacting like she was. Chrissy didn't like the idea of me being around a man she didn't know. I understood it, truly I did. She'd been by my side since we were teenagers. She'd been with me through every twist and turn of my life, even when I had tried to push her away.

But I was a grown woman, dammit. I tied my own shoelaces and everything. She realised that enough to not demand I don't see Sam, at least.

"I'll give you a call when I get home, okay? Let you know the deal with tall, dark and _touched in the head._ " I rolled my eyes, showing her exactly what I thought of her opinion of him.

Tense frown in place, she nodded firmly. "If I don't hear from you by midnight, I'm going to find that bastard and put him in an early grave," she threatened.

I had no doubt that she'd try it, too.

"Chris, what happened to the days when you were this sweet little girl who wouldn't say boo to a ghost?" I asked dryly. What happened to those days? She'd certainly be less trouble for me if she was still like she was - scared of her own shadow.

She laughed. "That's an easy one, Peg. You happened."

* * *

Sam was there waiting for me when I got off, sitting at one of the outside tables. He had his head down and was playing with a napkin.

I strode up to him, stopping right in front of him.

He didn't notice me.

After a few seconds of him still not noticing me, I arched a brow. "Am I leaving you here, then?" I asked. He jumped, thighs bumping against the underside of the table, shaking the entire bench. The salt shaker tumbled to the ground. I couldn't help myself; I laughed. The look on his face was priceless. I might as well have jumped from a shadow and scared the life out of him. I rested a hand on his shoulder and reigned in my laughter. "Are you okay there?"

"Fine," his deep voice rumbled.

"Good." I gave his shoulder a pat and leaned back, brows raised. "I thought I'd lost you for a moment there. That napkin hold the key to immortality or something?"

His expression grew stern. "You'll never lose me."

Wow. Okay, _intense._ "That's... good to know. Shall we...?" I tipped my head in the direction of town, and Sam jumped up from the bench. We began a slow pace side by side towards town. Sam was so close to me that the sleeve of my jacket brushed against his bare arm. His clothing today was better and worse than yesterday. It was a hoodie, at least, even if it didn't have sleeves. At least his body would stay warm while his arms froze off. Did this guy not own anything with sleeves?

We shared idle small talk through the small walk towards town. How was your day? How was work? Deal with too many annoying locals? Standard chatter.

By the time our idle chatter was through, the park was in sight.

There were a couple people milling around the area - stragglers of the day, not quite ready to go home yet. One couple were walking hand-in-hand past the old steam train, giggling to each other. I smiled as I watched them.

Sam commented on the lack of snow we'd had today.

Okay, that was it. The small talk was bothering me now, though. When the weather came up, I wasn't having any more of it. I wasn't a beat-around-the-bush type of person. I liked to be frank with people. They always knew where they stood with me. Call it part of my charm. I'd given Sam plenty of time to work up to whatever he wanted to talk to be about, but I wasn't going to let it go any further now he was trying to talk about the _weather._

I stopped abruptly, sitting down on a park bench we were just about to pass, ignoring the snow that crunched under my backside. That was going to melt and make my ugly-ass yellow pants gross, but I was fine with that if I could get Sam to talk.

Sam stopped when I did, turning to face me. Sat down like this, his height was far more obvious. Idly I wondered if this is how short people felt when they looked way up at people like Sam and I. The height difference was almost unnerving. How did short people cope dating really tall people? I don't think I could cope with being with someone miles taller than me.

"What is it you want to talk about, Sam?" I asked pointedly. No hiding from it now.

His mouth opened, then closed, and he looked away for a moment. Gathering courage. His broad shoulders were tense, his face drawn.

What the Hell did he have to say to a complete stranger that had him so worried?

"Sam?" I prompted gently when the tense set to his mouth and furrow to his brows just got deeper.

He gave a deep sigh, and his eyes met mine again. They were so warm. Shit-brown Chrissy would probably say. I thought they were deeper than that. Lighter, too. I hadn't spent much time around the Quileute, but I was sure their eyes were usually varying shades of dark brown and black. Sam's were almost whiskey coloured.

He gave a deep sigh, and his shoulders slumped. Whatever battle he was having with himself, he had just lost.

His tongue ran over his lips in a nervous tick, and my eyes were drawn to the dampness that movement left behind.

 _Fucking taken, Peg. Move the fuck on,_ I reminded myself harshly, making my eyes turn back up to his.

More hesitation, a hitch in his breath, then-

"I love you."

 _What?_

What the fuck? It's what I wanted to ask. He _loved_ me? How the fuck could he love me? This was only the, what, fourth time he'd ever seen me? We hadn't spent more than a cumulative half hour in each other's presence. Love could _not_ bloom in such a short amount of time. No fucking way.

I had my mouth open to throw the expletive buzzing around in my mind. I stopped myself, though. The look on his face... That wasn't one you could fake. That was open warmth; the sort of look I'd seen on the faces of so many happy people in love. The look I'd seen on Carlisle and Esme's faces when they looked at each other. The look I'd seen on my own face in the mirror, on _his_ face, way back when.

 _Warm hands. Gentle touch. Whispered nothings. A scream. Burning._

The breath left my body in a rush.

This guy was _actually_ touched in the head. He was actually fucked up. Chrissy wouldn't let me live it down, for as long as I lived. The guy that I'd defended, that I'd assured my honorary sister wasn't a threat to me, wasn't fucked up, actually was. _Fuck._

My eyes ran a sweep of the area. The couple that had been walking by the steam train was still there, and despite how dark it was, there were a couple kids playing in the park a short distance away. There were still people here if I needed the help. I knew how quickly _love_ could turn to something much more dangerous and dark. I didn't want to risk being caught alone with someone who wasn't quite all there if he did have a sudden turn. Some people - _him -_ I could handle most the time. I'd been taller, stronger than him. Most the time I could hold him off. Sam? I wasn't sure. He was a big man. If he had a turn? I could be well and truly fucked.

"You... love me?" I tried gently on my tongue. The questioning was wrong. He loved me. He believed it. I couldn't question the conviction in his eyes, no matter how much I wanted to. "Explain it to me, Sam. How?"

The small, slow nod he gave made me think that he had expected the questioning, that he hadn't expected me to jump right on board with his love. That was a normal reaction. That was what normal people did.

And again I felt like he wasn't fucked up in the head. _That_ felt right. I wanted to believe that he wasn't fucked up, but this whole situation was- _Fuck!_

Sam dropped to one knee in front of me, so he was a little lower than me, looking up at me. That made me loosen up just a little. "How much do you know about Quileutes? Our culture? Our mythology?"

What the fuck did that have to do with explaining why he loved me? What the fuck did that have to do with anything right now? "Sam...?"

"It's relevant." _Humour me,_ his eyes pled.

 _Fine, I'll humour you._ I sucked my teeth, giving the question some thought. What _did_ I know about the Quileute? "Not a whole lot," I admitted after a moment. "You do all kinda keep to yourselves. I know you're amazing fishermen, and you can perform magic with blueberries when you cook 'em. But your mythology?" I shook my head. "I mean, back when I was a kid we used to have those bonfires on the beach, and some of the locals would come hang with us, tell us stories about the Thunderbird and the Raven - Bayak...?"

"Ba-yuck," he corrected fluently. I'd butchered the pronunciation pretty well there.

"That's it. Those nights were always pretty cool. Hearing all those stories was awesome. But that's all I know. What those teens told us like five years ago, trying to entertain the Forks kids." I couldn't say I knew too much when what I did know came from the mouths of eager fourteen-year-olds trying to impress the older women of Forks enough to get lucky.

Sam's lips pressed together firmly for a moment. "Do you know the story of our creation? How all the tribes in the area came to be, by the hands of Q'waeti?"

"No. Sam, what does this have to do with _anything_?" It was starting to get frustrating, this walk-around. He wasn't giving me any straight answers, and it was doing my nut in. I just wanted a straight answer from him.

"Listen. Just listen. You'll understand. I promise." He was desperate for me to listen.

"Storytime with Sam. _Cool_." It was anything but cool, but if this was what it took to get him to give me answers, then so be it. I shook my head but gestured for him to take a seat on the bench beside me. "Sit up here with me. I'm not gonna be responsible for your legs falling asleep."

He smiled gently and pushed himself up to sit on the bench. Snow crunched under him, too. By this point, my backside was wet with melted snow. We turned to face each other. Our knees bumped together. Then his shoulders straightened, and his chin raised. The change in him was more than just physical. He looked stronger, more prideful. Like the pride of his tribe was running through him. "Long ago, Q'waeti journeyed over all the lands, setting people aright, and instructing them how to act, to ensure the survival of future generations."

Despite my frustration with the sudden tangent, I did listen raptly to the tale. I wasn't lying when I had said hearing the stories was pretty cool. I loved hearing about any type of mythology, and Sam had a way of spinning the tale so I was hanging on every word.

He told me how Q'waeti made the beaver live in the water, and the deer skittish; how he created the Queets from dead skin from his hands, and taught to Hoh people to walk on their feet rather than their hands and fish for smelt; how the Quileute lands were bare, but for wolves, which he turned to men. His tale finished with Q'waeti turning dogs to men and taught the Makah and the Neah people to fish in the rocks and rivers.

"Then Q'waeti went on journeying across the land to set more people aright."

"That's..." I was dazzled by the tale. "Wolves. Your people were made from wolves. What a history."

Sam grinned then, becoming Sam again, his broad shoulders puffing up in pride, but not carrying the strength that he'd had when he was telling the tale of Q'waeti. "To make us brave, like the wolves. To make us strong in every way." His gaze turned down to his hands, and he flexed them, into fists, then relaxed again. "They're true. The stories. Our creation. We're descended from them. _Become_ wolves."

"You... become wolves?" My voice was dry. Was this some sort of spiritual Native thing that I wasn't privy to? Like spirit guides or something? Or was he actually delusional?

More and more was mounting up in favour of Sam not being all there.

He nodded, eyes finding mine. "We do. _I_ do. I shift into this... this giant wolf."

"Right." I pushed myself up to my feet. "Q'waeti turned wolves into people hundreds of years ago, and the Quileutes still turn into wolves - _werewolves_ ," I snorted. "And that's supposed to tell me why you love me out of the blue? _Fuck,_ Sam." I shook my head. "Look, I'm out of here. Whatever dare or whatever got you in this position- I hope they pay up." This had to be a dare, right? How else would this situation come about?

I trudged away, done with this whole mess.

I wasn't dealing with being messed around like this. Fuck that shit.

"Peg!" A hot hand snagged my wrist, jerking me backwards. I yelped, but kept my feet under me, swivelling around to glare at him. "Peggy, please. I can show you."

My head began to shake again. "Sam, for fuck sake, lay off. Seriously, it's not funny."

"Please," he repeated, his grip on my wrist tightening when I tried to pull my arm away. "Let me show you. Please let me show you."

I don't know what it was that made me crack. Maybe it was the way he was holding onto me, like he was scared I would disappear if he didn't convince me. Or the look in his eyes - so sincere, so desperate. Before I could consult with my brain, I nodded. "Fine. Show me. Show me that you're a werewolf. A fucking _werewolf_ , Sam!"

He flinched when I yelled but squared his shoulders a moment later. "Thank you." His hand slid from my wrist, and he stood. "The woods. I can show you there."

My head shook in exasperation. "People know I'm with you. If I disappear, you're the first person they're going after," I warned, only part of me joking as we began to walk.

Sam saw the humour, and his lips quirked into a little smirk.

What the fuck was I doing?

* * *

 **I originally planned for there to be a cliffhanger in this chapter splitting it into two parts, but decided that it was a really cheap shot at trying to get people to stick around for the next chapter. I want to be known as the author that brings people in with my good writing, not with crappy cheap tactics to try and generate outrage. So you got a full, long chapter, that I hope you all enjoy much more than the original chapter.**

 **This is also the length I want to try and aim for all future chapters. I enjoy writing long chapters, and sometimes I struggle, but it's something I want to work on. Writing good long chapters.**

 **All of the mentions of mythology here are actual Quileute legends: the Thunderbird; Bayak; Q'waeti and the beaver, deer, upside-down people, wolves and dogs. They're all real legends, and I spent a lot of time researching them. I had a lot of fun researching them, too. These myths are incredible. If you have the time to look them up, please do!**

 **Can any of you guess where the cliffhanger would have been if I had stuck with my plan? I'll give some incentive. The first person to get it right in a PM will get the chance to have a character of theirs cameo briefly in the story.**


	4. Chapter 4

**Todays the day! Peg finds out Sam's a wolf! I'm pretty excited about it, honestly. This'll be the real start, where things get far more interesting. We have the wolves. So far we've just got Sam, but Jared's coming soon, and I am so excited for Peg to big brother Jared, you have no idea. And then Paul. Oh Paul. Paul's my favourite Twilight character, so expect some good Paul action. No vampires yet, though. They'll happen soon, I assure you. After all, Peg is friends with Carlisle and Esme.**

 **But for now, let's deal with Sam going all David Kessler on Peg's ass.**

 **I hope you're all ready for that.**

 **I should probably warn you, too, that there is a LOT of swearing in this chapter. More than usual. When Peg gets agitated, her vocabulary gets more... colourful. She doesn't _always_ swear this much, though. If it makes you uncomfortable, please try to wait it out.**

 **Let's go!**

* * *

 **Surrender**  
 _Twilight_

Sam Uley / OC

* * *

 _Sometimes there is a single moment that changes your life forever. After that moment nothing feels the same anymore. You try to get back into your normal routine, but something is different, something's changed._

\- Komal Kant

* * *

 _Why the Hell was I doing this?_ I asked myself for maybe the fifth time as Sam and I cut through someone's garden to get to the woods. No one came running out trying to chase us off their property as we found our way into the treeline, so that was a plus. My fists thrust deeper into my pockets when we began to trudge deeper into the woods. The evening chill was starting to make my fingers numb.

We were both well acclimatised to traversing a forest, I noted after few moments. Neither of us faltered, even in the dark, as we moved deeper and deeper into the woods. We barely made a sound between us. The birds in the trees and the rodents scurrying around made more noise than us.

There was something nice about walking through the woods with someone else without having to pause every few seconds to let someone catch up. When I had started hiking to pick up a hobby that I could do without _too much_ strenuous use of my hands - playing the guitar had been out of the question for a long time and I needed _something_ to do to stop me going crazy - Chrissy had come along with me. At least she had for a few trips. Whereas I had quickly adapted to finding footholds in the uneven ground and thrived out in the woods, Chris struggled like mad. I was always pausing to let her catch up with me, until she had decided that hiking definitely wasn't for her and I was on my own. I was fine with that. I didn't mind hiking on my own, but the company was nice.

And I was _seriously_ questioning my sanity. A complete stranger tells me he loves me, and that he's a werewolf, and what do I do? Go running for the hills? No. No, that would be the smart thing to do. I follow him into the woods, and I'm happy for the damned company while we're marching to what could be my deaths at the hand of someone having a psychotic break.

What the fuck, Peg?

Forget Sam being touched in the head, I was pretty sure I was coming close.

"This should be good," Sam decided a few minutes into our impromptu stroll through the woods.

We slowed to a stop in a little treeless stretch that could barely be called a clearing. There was hardly an opening in the canopy. The _clearing_ was, at max, fifteen feet wide.

Our feet shuffled, so we ended up stood facing each other, far enough away from each other that I didn't have to crane my neck any to see his face. I still couldn't get over the fact that I had to actually look up at someone.

Sam looked wary.

I was pretty sure I just looked tired.

A long moment passed in complete silence.

"Are you looking for a written invitation, Akela? Show me what you got." I was done being nice about this. The quicker I could prove he was mad and I could get away from this shit the better. This stopped being fun round about the time Sam finished telling the story of the creation of the Quileutes. I was getting kind of freaked out now and I was seriously regretting following him into the woods.

The nudge made Sam's shoulders square up. He looked so much broader like that. Damn. "Don't be scared. I won't hurt you. I'd never hurt you." He had that same intense look in his eyes that made looking at him a little awkward. Most people tended not to be that intense. It was uncomfortable being the recipient of such a serious look.

Then he pulled off his hoodie and dropped it to the ground. _God_ , my memory of how ripped he was hadn't done him justice.

And I _certainly_ shouldn't be thinking that right now. _Down girl._

His hands dropped to the button of his jeans. My brows shot up. What the Hell was this guy doing? Not only was I going to get murdered in the fucking woods, I was going to get flashed beforehand. _Beautiful._

"Could you, uh, back up a bit? I'm not an average sized wolf. I don't want to catch you." He wasn't an average sized wolf. _Right._ Of course. Why would the werewolf be an average sized wolf? I took a step back obediently. Why was I humouring this? I should just turn tail and walk the fuck away. "A little further?"

Really? I took another two long strides back with a pointed look of displeasure, ending up with my back pressed against a tree. "This okay for you?" I snarked.

His eyes caught mine again, his face stern. He ignored my sarcasm. "I won't hurt you," he repeated firmly.

Then his pants dropped. I didn't even have a second to admire him (fuck it, he was hot and I wanted some pleasure out of the experience before something fucked up happened) before he literally exploded outwards.

"Holy fuck!" My back hit the tree behind he _hard_ as the wolf - wolf? It was a fucking beast - landed lightly on its paws in front of me. Shit. Fuck. He was actually a wolf. He was actually a fucking werewolf. A werewolf the size of a fucking horse. _Shit!_

My legs gave out beneath me. I slid down the trunk, scraping the back of my jacket up and collecting all sorts of bits of moss and bark in my hair on the way down. I ended up sitting in the degrading leaves and snow on the forest floor, my mouth hung open, almost touching the ground.

The wolf stepped forward hesitantly then dropped to his belly in front of me. A whine sounded from him.

"Okay, you're a wolf. You're actually a wolf." My voice didn't crack. It barely even wavered. I'd chalk that down to this not actually sinking in yet.

Sam crawled forwards on his belly and his massive head rested on my legs. It was heavy. Those whiskey coloured eyes were exactly the same as his human eyes, and just as expressive. My fingertips trailed over his furry cheek. He was just as warm as a wolf as he was a man. My fingers buried into the thick fur, unconsciously looking for heat. They were still numb.

"Am I going to get fleas if I let you too near?"

The question came out of nowhere.

There was a beat of silence before the wolf in my lap gave a series of short raspy barks, like laughter. The dim light filtering through the trees glinted off his sharp wet teeth.

"Oh my god. You're really a wolf," I repeated dumbly.

At least I hadn't screamed. I was wearing that one like a badge of honour. Werewolves actually existed and I hadn't screamed yet. I didn't want to be one of those simpering scared-by-their-own-shadow leading ladies in shitty horror films. Maybe I should have reacted like that, though. I could at least claim some semblance of sanity if I reacted in horror over supernatural creatures existing. This was the stuff of horror films, sat in my lap, giving some sort of fucked up growling _purr_ as my fingers carded through his warm fur.

"Not that I don't trust you - because at this point I actually do, fuck me, I do - but could you like, turn back? Those are some big teeth you got there, Granny, and I really don't want a reenactment of Little Red Riding Hood. I don't think my heart could take a hunter running in here with an axe right now. Wait, can you turn back? You're not stuck like this til the sun comes up, are you? That'd fucking suck."

The wolf backed up out of my lap and after some strange contorting that looked like he was in pain, Sam was actually Sam again, knelt in the mud, bollock naked. "Granny? Really?" was the first thing he asked, deep voice dry.

"Yeah, I sorta..." My hand began to move, while I tried to come up with something to say, some way of explaining. "Run my mouth when I don't know what to- Yknow what, I think you noticed. Ha." I gave a nervous laugh, jamming my fist to my mouth. My knuckles pressed hard against my lower lip. "I'm having a conversation about Little Red Riding Hood with a naked werewolf in the woods."

Sam eyed me warily. He was doing a lot of that tonight. I didn't blame him. I felt _this close_ to having a mental break. "You're... taking this well," he said slowly.

My head shook, wild red curls whipping around my face. "No." The denial was high-pitched. "No, I'm really not. I just- Give me a minute and I'll be okay. Maybe. Probably? Who fucking knows. Werewolves exist. I need a fucking century to process this shit. _Werewolves_."

Give me a minute, he did. He sat silently in the mud, watching me as I processed what had just happened.

I'd just seen a guy turn into a massive wolf. Werewolves existed. What else existed? Vampires? Faeries? Could I actually meet the Dullahans and Banshees that my grandad had filled my head with as a child? Actually, I wasn't too sure I wanted to meet a Dullahan.

"So you're a wolf." My voice was calm now. Much calmer than I felt. "That have something to do with you loving me?" My mind was everywhere right now, questioning everything I knew about the world, but that much as obvious. He wouldn't have shown me this when I asked him to explain if this wasn't part of the reason.

"You're astute. Yes, it does."

My tongue ran over my lower lip, and I sat up. "Explain it."

And he did.

* * *

"What the fuck sort of time do you call this?" Chrissy squawked. She'd picked up the phone on the second right. She'd been waiting by the phone for me to call. "You let him dip his wick?"

I ran a hand through my hair and grimaced when I picked a leaf from my curls. Ew. "Sorry, I just got in." My eyes turned to the clock on the wall. Eleven o'clock. Shit. "No, he didn't get sex. Look, this is just a check-in. I'm dead tired. Sam's not a maniac. I'm okay. Everything's good. Now I'm going to sleep. I'll see you tomorrow."

Chris huffed, clearly not happy with my lack of want to go into detail about my evening. She wanted to pick me dry about every moment of the night. I wanted to go to bed and ignore the world for a week. Neither of us would get what we wanted. Chrissy was still going to try to compromise to get what she wanted. That's just who she was. "Come round to Marigolds after work. I want every detail. Every single one."

"Yes, dear."

 _Not a fucking chance, dear._

We bid our goodbyes quickly, and I left the phone behind on the kitchen counter so I could go shower away the shit (physical and emotional) clinging to me.

After a quick shower, I found myself laying in bed, staring up at the ceiling.

What a fucking day.

 _"...and then there's imprinting." Sam sat straighter as he said the word._

 _He'd been talking about the stories - the histories - of shapeshifting in his tribe for hours. Anything that he remembered from the bonfires he'd been to as a child and anything he could tell me about what he'd learned since he'd become a wolf. He'd become a wolf just a fortnight before I had found him in the woods, he told me. Our meeting happened just minutes after he'd managed to shift back into a human for the first time in that fortnight. I was glad it was him I had found, and not the beast that had been purring in my lap a few hours ago. I didn't think I would have dealt well with seeing Wolf-Sam without some warning beforehand. Not that I'd dealt with it well_ with _the warning._

 _By this point the two of us were sat on the ground, facing each other. Sam hadn't bothered pulling on his clothing again and my bright yellow pants were beyond saving now._

 _"Imprinting? Like with baby ducks?" Wasn't that where ducks fell in love with humans and followed them around everywhere?_

 _"No." He leaned forwards slightly, and I found myself leaning forwards, too. "Well,_ yes _, but it's different with wolves. It's... Horrifying and beautiful all at the same time. It's..." His shoulders slumped, and he looked away._

 _He did that, I noticed, when he was struggling. Detached from the world to regroup. Pulled away from any contact, looked away, went silent, let his mind process what he wanted to say before he actually said it._

 _At some point during the storytelling, we'd laced our fingers together. When he started talking about his first phasing, he'd pulled away from me, and sat for a long minute before explaining it. It sounded horrific. The confusion, the fear. The two weeks of fighting with himself in a deep panic, of struggling to adapt to not having any human amenities, not knowing whether he would become a human again or not._

 _Now he pulled away from me again, his long fingers clenching around his kneecaps instead._

 _I sat patiently while he worked out what he needed to._

 _"Imprinting is..." His eyes turned back to mine, and caught them, held them. They were light, warm; full of some deep happy emotion. "It's_ perfect _. Seeing someone and knowing they're yours. Feeling complete, finding your other half - the person your entire existence belongs to. The part of you that you didn't know you were missing until you found them, then you're whole. It's finding your soulmate."_

 _"That doesn't sound so horrible." To find the other half of yourself? Some people waited a lifetime for that, to find their soulmate. Some went their entire lives without finding it. Some believed they'd never find their perfect match. I knew that one well. So broken as I felt at times, I didn't think there'd ever be someone who fit perfectly with all my jagged edges._

Too fucked up to love, _a cynical voice supplied from the dark._

 _"It is when you thought you'd already found it with someone else." His smile was grim, empty. It hurt to look at it._

 _Then it hit me like a physical blow. "Fuck. Me and Leah." I felt sick. "Sam. Oh, Sam, fuck. I'm so sorry." My hand came up to cover my mouth, I felt involuntary tears prickle at my eyes._ _He loved Leah. He'd loved her - thought she was his fucking soulmate. Wanted to spend the rest of his life with her. Then this imprinting happened, and now... Now he was stuck with me? Stuck with me in all my fucked up imperfection, over the woman that he loved._ _"Can't- Can't you stay with her? You love her, right? Thought she was your soulmate. Can't you just-" He was already shaking his head. "You can't, can you? You've lost her."_

 _And now had me, if I was getting the right end of the stick with this imprinting thing. I wasn't much of a consolation prize._

 _He detached again, looking into the darkness of the forest around us._

 _"I love her," he finally said. "That will never go away. I love her... But I love you more. This is absolute. You're everything." He said it like he was just realising it. His eyes turned back to me, all molten heat and deep emotion. "Peggy, you're everything, and I can't go back to Leah and pretend she's my soulmate. Not now I know."_

 _He reached out, fingers weaving through mine. His hand squeezed mine gently. I squeezed back._

 _"And I won't make you," I assured. I couldn't. If this soulmate business was as strong as he was making it out to be then I wasn't going to force him to pursue a dead end. "But, Sam, I'm sorry."_

 _I'm sorry for pulling you away from her. I'm sorry for being the cause of this mess. I'm sorry for not knowing how to fix it._

 _His face softened. "Don't apologise. Please, don't."_

 _I chewed on my lip. God, I felt so shit. Sick didn't even begin to cover it anymore._ _"When? How?"_

 _His hand squeezed mine again. "That day when you found me in the woods. When our eyes met that first time when we were at my place. Then. It was then. I was so shaken by everything that happened that it... I just ignored it. So much had happened, my mind was so occupied. I didn't know what was happening to me. I just tried to ignore everything, go back to how I was before. Back to my life, back to Leah. Then, at the diner- I didn't know you worked there. It was a date. I was trying to apologise to Leah for being so cagey, for all this." He gestured to himself. "And then you were there, and I couldn't ignore it. Leah be damned, you became every thought in my head. I had to talk to you, touch you, know you were real and you were mine."_

 _I didn't know what to say. What could you say to that?_

 _Nothing that I could think of._ _So I didn't say anything._ _Sam didn't demand anything from me. So w_ _e just sat in silence for a long time._

 _"Where do we go from here then, Sam? I can't just... You can't pretend and neither can I. I can't pretend to love you just because of this." I didn't want to lead him on. I wasn't going to just fall into a fake relationship because his newfound animal instincts told him I was the one. So where did that leave us?_

 _"First, I break up with Leah." He leaned back on his hands and scowled. He wasn't looking forward to the prospect of breaking up with her. "Then... I don't expect you to pretend, but will you try it? Try this? See if you can come to love me?"_

 _My lips pressed together. He was going to break up with Leah just before Christmas. That poor girl. In this whole situation, she was suffering most of all, and she didn't know why. I felt so guilty. Breaking up with her just to try and kindle something in me, in hopes that I fell in love with him as hard as he suddenly_ magically _loved me._

 _I let out a long, deep sigh, shoulders slumping._

 _What a fucked up situation._

 _"Yes." Yes, I'd try it. I had no reason not to. No reason to deny him._

My arm threw over my face, cold hand pressing against my warm cheek.

"Oh, Peggy, what the fuck, girl? What the fuck?"

How had my life got so complicated so quickly?

* * *

 **And the big secret is out! It may seem a bit quick but Sam has always**

 **Who noticed the Disney reference? If you don't pick it up now, don't you worry. That reference is sticking around.**


	5. Chapter 5

**Guess who's back. Back again. Milkshake's back. Tell a friend.**

* * *

 **Surrender  
** Twilight

Sam Uley / OC

* * *

 _Love is not something you go out and look for. Love finds you, ready or not, it'll be the best thing to ever happen to you_

* * *

"Boy, am I glad to see you two!" I stood when I spotted the two beautiful people I'd been waiting for step inside A Shot In The Dark, my favourite coffee shop in town. I met the two lovely people that were striding toward me with dazzling smiles at least once a month to catch up and share stories. We'd been having these meetups for just over a year now.

"Peggy, you look great," Esme complimented, holding me tight for a moment. "Merry Christmas!"

I rested my hands on her shoulders and grinned. "Merry Christmas, Esme."

She passed me off to her husband, who followed his wife's example with a light hug. "You're looking quite tired. Are you all right, dear?" he questioned, pulling back to look at me with concern. He had his doctor cap on. It was the hazard of being friends with a doctor. Especially one that actually had been your doctor at one point.

"Nu-uh. We turn the doctor off when we're socialising, Doctor Ice Cube. That's the rule." I took a step back so I could point at him with mock-warning. This had been a rule since day one. Outside of the hospital, Carlisle couldn't doctor me unless it was an emergency. At first, he couldn't doctor me at all, but I'd popped my stitches once, during our second coffee meet, tripping over someone's bag strap and stupidly trying to catch myself with injured hands. Since then the amendment had been made, and so far it worked for us. That is, it worked for us after I reminded Carlisle for the umpteenth time to turn the doctor off.

You know what? It never really worked. Carlisle had a hard time taking off his doctor cap. That man lived to look after people, whether they wanted it or not.

He sighed in amused exasperation, amber eyes rolling and a small smile quirking his thin lips upwards. "All right, I concede. No doctoring. Now, as your friend, I'm asking. Are you okay?"

My shoulders slumped. I gave my own exasperated response. Really, he could always find a loophole. Not allowed to doctor me, but he still found a way to try and find out what was wrong. He'd try to find a fix for it, too. I knew him. "You're impossible, you know that, Carlisle?" A quirk of a blond brow was my only answer. Stubborn to a fault, too. " _Yes_ , I'm fine. A friend of mine, he's going through a stressful time, and it's affecting me a little, is all. Nothing to worry about."

So I was downplaying... pretty much everything about the situation. Could you blame me here?

 _S'okay, Carlisle. My werewolf friend is in love with me and broke up with his girlfriend to be with me. It's sorta stressing me out some. Don't worry about it._

Somehow I wasn't sure that conversation would fly well.

I hadn't heard from Sam in a week, not since he'd showed me what he was. I'd been worrying about him all week. How he'd cope with breaking up with Leah, how she'd cope with it all. So close to Christmas, too. It couldn't be easy on either of them. Then there were all the other repercussions to deal with. I was sure he'd made plans with Leah's family for Christmas. Those had to be rearranged. He'd have to deal with his own family's reactions to the breakup. There was a lot going on for Sam and I wanted to make sure he was okay.

Without his number, or the desire to fuck up a delicate situation by just waltzing up to his house (if I even remembered where the damned house was - it had been a month since I'd taken him there) I just had to wait patiently for him to get in touch with me to find out how he was doing. The wait wasn't an easy one.

Carlisle stared hard at me for a moment before mercifully letting the topic go, declaring he was going to get our drinks. He insisted to pay for mine every time we met up like this. I'd given up trying to fight him two months into these weekly meetups. Fifteen months later, I just let him buy for me. It saved the little arguments and quips about him going bankrupt over a single cup of coffee.

While Carlisle made himself scarce, Esme and I sat down opposite other at the table I'd claimed for us.

"How's your music going?" Esme asked, golden eyes alight with eagerness.

That was almost always the first topic of discussion between us. I loved it.

I grinned and wiggled my fingers at her. "The callouses are finally here to stay. It isn't uncomfortable at all anymore. It's so good to have them back." I'd gone months without playing the guitar and the lack of playing had caused my callouses to go soft. When I had finally picked up the guitar again, it wasn't without its issues. I'd had to build up the callouses again almost from scratch. They had slowly built up again and now I was sporting callouses almost as great as they were before. It wouldn't take long for them to build back up fully again. Just time and practise.

Esme was just as excited as I was over the news. She'd been excited when I'd first told her I played the guitar and sang in my spare time, told me about her adopted son Edward, who was a whizkid on the piano - maybe I was paraphrasing Esme a little here. She'd seen how much it hurt to not be able to play guitar in the months playing had been vetoed by Carlisle. She'd encouraged me to sing more while I was healing as a compromise. When Carlisle had given me the green light to start practising again, Esme had asked about my progress every time she saw me.

"That's wonderful, Peggy! I can't wait to hear your play. You will play for me, won't you?" The uncertain hope in her eyes was absurd.

"Esme, I don't think I could say no to you if I tried," I responded dryly.

"What can't you deny my wife, Peggy?" Carlisle asked, appearing over my shoulder and setting a steaming mug of hot chocolate in front of me.

Esme's hand found Carlisle's forearm when he sat down with their mugs in hand, squeezing gently. "To play for me."

Carlisle's pale features lit up. He understood immediately. "Are you playing as well as before, Peg? No problems with your hands?"

"Sometimes they cramp a little. More than they used to, but I'm almost back to normal. I can play better than the average bear, at least." The damage to my hands wasn't ever going to go away completely, but I was adapting. I could deal with the occasional cramp.

"Anyway, enough about me. What about you? How are the sprogs? Emmet hasn't been causing you any more trouble, has he, Esme? I can set him right for you if you want." My fist pounded into my open palm. A twinkling blue eye winked mirthfully.

The couple before me laughed.

* * *

Freedom. My last day of work for the year was over. I was free to spend the last week of the year lounging around my flat in pyjamas, and no one could say a word. That was thanks in most part to the fact that nobody would be around to judge me this year. This Christmas I was by my lonesome unless Chrissy decided to drunkenly call me from her parents' place later on tomorrow. That was still very much possible.

I shivered as I stepped out of Marigold's warmth into the Christmas Eve chill. My hands found their way deep inside my coat pockets. Fucking cold. I was looking forward to becoming one with my dressing gown.

"Have you ever thought about investing in a pair of gloves?" a deep voice questioned when I skipped down the steps separating Marigold's raised decking from the road.

I think I jumped an entire foot in the air. I hadn't expected the voice, or the man that it belonged to, to be waiting for me outside the bar tonight. I suppose that came with not having any contact details. " _Shit_ , Sam. What the fuck?" I groused. Christmas was not the time to give me heart attacks. "I'm getting you a fucking cowbell for Christmas."

The threat was moot. I was going to be hard-pressed to find a store that stocked cowbells at nine pm on Christmas Eve. I wasn't even going to try.

Sam took the handful of stairs two at a time, his hand stuffed into the pockets of a worn fleece-lined denim jacket. So he actually did know how to dress appropriately to the weather. It was a Christmas miracle. "You get me a cowbell," he suggested with a grin as he stopped in front of me. "I'll get you gloves. We'll both be happy."

I didn't even dignify the tease with a reaction, at least not one visible to him. A smile came to my lips as I turned away to make the walk towards Forks. Sam fell into step beside me and we took the road past the woods together in a comfortable silence.

"I'm sorry for the no-show this past week. It's been... busy." His clipped tone told me that _busy_ hadn't been his first choice of words.

If I were in his place I would have likely called it a shitshow myself. This last week was probably the week from hell for Sam. I couldn't blame him for not coming to see me. "How are you coping with it all?" This whole situation was difficult as fuck for Sam and I doubted he had many people to confide in right now. Especially after cutting out his girlfriend. I wanted to provide some sort of support for him.

"It was the single hardest thing I've ever had to do in my life." There were no mincing words with Sam. Once he knew what he was going to say, he got down to brass tacks. I appreciated the lack of verbal dancing. It fit very well with my own blunt style. "And I had to ask Harry to give me his blessing," he continued with a strained jokiness to his tone.

His weak attempt at humour didn't quite draw the reaction he was expecting out of me. "You were _engaged?_ Fuck, Sam. Could I have fucked up your life _any_ more?" At this point, I didn't think it was possible. In the split second it had taken for the imprint to take hold, I had taken him away from who he thought was his soulmate, who he was fucking _engaged_ to, and made him have to plan out his entire future in a new light. Fucking A, Peggy Lee, you really outdid yourself this time.

"You didn't fuck up my life." I pinned him with a disbelieving glare. "Okay, you fucked it up a little bit. But not in a bad way," he finished quickly.

"How can you fuck up someone's life in a _good_ way?"

Sam elbowed me, then dropped an arm around my shoulders to pull me into a sideways hug. My gaze turned up to his face just in time to catch the crooked grin that wrinkled the corner of his eyes. The expression warmed me through. God fucking damn it. It shouldn't have. "We can find that out together."

Together. If the situation wasn't so fucked up, I'd have liked the sound of that.

I nudged Sam with my elbow, pulling away slightly. His arm slid from around my shoulders. "So what are the plans for tonight? Or did you just show up to give me a heart attack, and decide to plan around the outcome?"

My dry tease earned a quiet chuckle from Sam. "I thought we could see where the night takes us. How about you? Is there anything you want to do?"

Me? If I was going to be honest, I just wanted to curl up on the couch with a tub of ice cream and spend the next couple days there.

Christmas time was usually my favourite time of the year. With no father in the picture anymore - God rest his soul - and a mother who knows where the only family I had to my name in this country was my grandpa Patrick Lee. Old Pad came across country from his home in Boston to visit me a handful of times a year. At the fine old age of eighty-two, Pad was as active as any young man you knew. Couldn't keep him still. He travelled like his life depended on it. Every phone call I had with him seemed to be at a different friend's house. Christmas, however, was always my time with him.

Or at least it was until this year. His younger brother, back home in County Kilkenny, wasn't doing so hot at the moment - in and out of Hospital quicker than we could keep up - with some nasty heart problems. I'd told Old Pad in no uncertain terms that if he was on this continent this Christmas that I was going to put my boot so far up his ass he'd _fly_ to Ireland without the need for an aeroplane. He'd conceded with a chuckle and a comment about my Irish temper - the one thing I seemed to have gotten from my mother beside her fiery locks.

That left me alone this Christmas. My friends all had family of their own, so I wasn't going to invite myself over to any of theirs, though I had a feeling Esme would have whisked me off to her home before I'd gotten the question out if I'd broached it with her. But Christmas was time for family, and Esme had a large enough family of her own. No need to put myself into the mix.

"How about we go back to my place and watch a movie? I don't feel like doing much tonight."

His eyes cut across to mine and observed me for a wary moment. "You're not going to make me watch a Christmas movie are you? Leah makes me watch Love Actually every year."

Makes. Present tense. Oh, Sam. I didn't bring up the slip. "I was actually thinking maybe Boondock Saints? No Lees at my table this year, so I was thinking of finding some family in the MacManus boys. Gotta get some Irish in somehow, y'know?"

That and I wouldn't mind admiring Norman Reedus tonight. Why not?

"You're Irish?"

The shock in his voice earned him an odd look. "Did the red hair and ghostly pallor not tip you off?" It was hard to miss the bright orange curls. The name _carrot top_ had followed me around like a bad smell throughout school. Kids had no originality.

"You don't speak with an accent."

Well, that was true. My accent as about as _Forks_ as you could get. Every now and then I'd slip with an Irish saying, something or other that I'd picked up from Old Pad over the years, but most the time I didn't sound any different than the rest of the town. "My mom's the Irish one. She didn't stick around for long, so I didn't pick up the accent." The way my dad told it, she'd left one night, screaming that he and I had ruined all her plans and she couldn't get out of town quick enough. She'd just left, and even her dad Old Pad hasn't heard from her since. I'd been a year old then. Twenty-three years later, I had no memories of her and no want to find her. "I grew up with my dad, and he was as apple pie as they came. Couldn't get any more American than Christian Williams if you tried."

Sam's brows shot up at the last comment, and I realised the error of my words with a ruddy flush. "Okay, you can't get any more American than Christian Williams unless you're Native," I corrected. "Better?"

"Much." There was nothing deep in that reply. It had been a jest. Thank fuck. I didn't want to insult him. "So your last name is Williams?"

"Nope. Lee. They weren't married, my parents, and I don't think they ever intended to be. Dad never changed my name, so I'm a Lee. I never really thought to change it to Williams. Didn't need to. The Lee family are the best around. One rotten apple doesn't make them a bad batch. The Lee's are a good lot to be in with."

His eyes were intense as they caught mine. "I know."

I couldn't help the snorting laugh. "You're a charmer, Sam. That's for sure. Now c'mon, I'm starting to lose feeling in my fingers." I hurried on towards my apartment, giggling when Sam made a comment about gloves again.

It didn't take us long to get to my apartment and set up for the movie.

Sam commented on my sparse livingroom. Not a Christmas tree or candy cane in sight.

Why decorate for just yourself?

The pre-movie adverts began as I disappeared, barefoot, into my room to retrieve a pair of fluffy socks and the big crochet blanket Pad's late wife had gifted to me as a child. Our shoes were piled up by the door, and our jackets were hung up on some hooks I'd installed recently, tired of pawing through a pile of coats on the little chair in the hallway every time I wanted to find a particular jacket.

I threw the blanket over the arm of the couch when I passed through into the kitchenette. "What snackage do you want? I think I have microwave popcorn from the last time Chrissy came over for a movie night." I opened the overhead cupboard filled with non-perishables and crowed triumphantly when I saw the pack of popcorn tucked behind a tin of oxtail soup. "Okay, popcorn is a go. Give me a minute to make up something else and we'll be good."

A couple minutes later I sat down in my space on my beaten up old couch and handed off the bowl of popcorn to Sam, who'd taken up the other seat and laid the blanket over his lap. My own bowl of fruit salad sat in my lap after I'd pulled the edge of the blanket to cover me. The film was paused on the opening sequence.

"Ready for some Saints, Sam?" I grinned, settling down comfortably.

"More than ready."

He hit play.

* * *

By the time Il Duce showed his face, I was curled up against Sam's side, freezing fingers curled into the hem of his shirt, seeking warmth without actually touching his skin. I wasn't quite sure how he'd react to me pushing up his shirt and using his stomach as a heater. Our bowls, both empty, sat by Sam's feet. His arm was wrapped around my shoulders, holding me close.

He was warm. So warm.

This was the perfect type of movie night. One where you could put on a kickass movie, curl up with your watching buddy, and just relax. There was no awkward tenseness or need to say anything. We just fit together in this comfortable silence.

Sam jostled me a little, pulling me closer. His lips pressed to the wild curls at the crown of my head. "Are all Irish families this crazy?" he questioned in a low rumble.

"This crazy?" I shifted slightly so I could look up at him. My lips curled into a teasing smirk. "Sam, this is positively _tame_. The Irish have crazy in their blood."

One eyebrow quirked upwards and a crooked smirk slid onto his features. He couldn't do the eyebrow quirk as well as I could. Someone hadn't been practising tirelessly in the mirror to perfect the move. Shame on you, Sam. "How crazy is this Irish girl?"

"Crazy enough to attract a werewolf," I countered easily.

He hummed low in agreement, eyes dipping down to my lips. I could feel his gaze on my lips with a tingling sort of tangibility. Unconsciously my tongue ran over them.

The air around us changed, crackling with an intense heat.

 _Shit._

I was pretty sure we both moved together in unison as we leaned forwards. His hand found my cheek and mine rested at his collar.

The kiss was full of the fumbling of lips and tongues that didn't know each other, but it was slow and hot and felt almost divine. The whole fireworks thing? That was bullshit. The whole sparks and quick intense burning thing didn't fit with this. If I could liken this kiss to anything, it would probably be the bonfires that I'd grown up having when I visited La Push. It was a slow, long burn that was almost comforting, with the occasional spark of something more, especially when his teeth dragged along my lower lip.

The kiss petered off slowly. Neither of us wanted to throw ourselves into anything that we weren't ready for. We were left in close proximity, just staring at one another, our hot breath mingling in the little gap between us.

* * *

Grogginess weighed me down like a rock, keeping me under. It was a brutal battle that grogginess ended up losing, in the face of my bladder screaming at me for relief.

I was halfway down the hall when I realised that I'd come from my bedroom.

My brows furrowed as I relieved myself, trying to piece together the night. I'd invited Sam over. We'd sat watching Boondock Saints, and gotten a _little_ distracted with that kiss. After the kiss we'd settled in to watch the rest of the film.

I squinted. I couldn't remember watching the end of the film. I must have fallen asleep on Sam before the film finished. That didn't explain why I was in my bed and not on the couch. Had Sam carried me to bed? My teeth took my lower lip captive. Damn, I hope not. I wasn't exactly the slimmest person in the world. At six foot one with muscle I'd built up from hours of hiking, I wasn't a skinny bird. I knew Sam was strong. He was bigger than me and laced with much more muscle, but the thought of him carrying me anywhere wasn't the greatest thought I could be having right now.

Speaking of tall, dark and handsome, where was he?

I washed off my hands and wiped them on my pants as I scouted out the living room. He wasn't there. I sucked my teeth, eyes running over the room. Sam wasn't there, but the evidence of him being here was. The blanket was strewn across the couch. The bowls that held our snacks were piled up in the sink. I didn't remember putting them there. Sam must have.

My eyes narrowed in on a piece of paper and something else sat on the one working surface in the kitchenette. I strode over, head tipped curiously.

It was a letter and a little parcel wrapped in brown paper and what looked like half a roll of tape. I turned the poorly wrapped parcel over in my grasp, laughing. What a mess. Wrapping things certainly wasn't Sam's forté. I set the parcel back down and picked up the letter. It was written on an opened envelope I'd left on the side. The writing was blocky, written in capital letters set too closely together, but it was legible. Just.

 _ **PEGGY**_

 _ **I DIDN'T WANT TO WAKE YOU.**_

 _ **I LOCKED THE DOOR ON THE WAY OUT. KEY  
IS HIDDEN UNDER THE WELCOME MAT.**_

 _ **DIDN'T GET TO GIVE YOU THIS LAST NIGHT.**_

 _ **MERRY CHRISTMAS**_

 _ **SAM**_

Under his name, he had scribbled a phone number.

Abandoning the letter, I picked up the parcel again, turning it over a few times in my grasp. How the hell was I going to get into this thing? It was more tape than paper.

Figuring I'd just grab some scissors and carefully cut away at it if I couldn't open it the first time around I began tearing at the little bit of paper that wasn't covered in tape. The whole thing came apart quite easily, actually.

What was left in my hand was a rectangular piece of light wood about the size of my palm, carved into a comb. The top part of the comb was carved with an angular caricature of an animal. The pointed ears and long snout sort of reminded me of a canine. A wolf, I realised. My thumb ran over the carving. It was smooth. The design was simple but beautiful. It must have taken a while to make.

I wondered if he'd carved this himself.

My lips pressed against the comb, then stretched into a smile.

 _Merry Christmas Sam._

 _Thank you._

* * *

 **One more chapter down. It was kinda strange writing Chirstmassy things at the end of January.**

 **What did you guys think of this? I'm five chapters into this story and I haven't had one review. I don't want to be the type of author that begs for reviews, but I'd really appreciate hearing some feedback. Thank you guys!**


	6. Chapter 6

**Here for another chapter. Are you guys sick of me yet?**

 **I hope not, 'cause I still have plenty to give here.  
**

* * *

 **Surrender  
** Twilight

Sam Uley / OC

* * *

 _If you don't leave your past in the past, it will destroy your future. Live for what today has to offer, not what yesterday has taken away._

* * *

"Excuse me? I don't think I heard you right. You did not just tell me you kissed Sam. Like, ten foot tall, built like a brick shithouse, touched in the head, Sam?"

Chrissy was puffed up like an angry bird. She couldn't look any more indignant if she'd tried. I had to try my best not to laugh.

Experience told me laughing at your friend's anger (especially if your friend was Christina Miller) never yielded good results. Chrissy was thick-skinned. She always had been. But she had a vicious mean streak when you made her feel stupid. The quickest way to make her feel stupid was to laugh at her when she was serious. Indignant Chrissy was serious Chrissy. No laughing.

 _No laughing,_ I reminded myself firmly.

"I _did_ , in fact, tell you that I kissed Sam Uley." His surname had come up in conversation shortly after I'd explained why I wasn't a Williams. Sam Uley. I liked the way the name sounded. "On Christmas Eve," I added with faux lightness, just to ruffle her feathers a little more. "It was _great_."

Chrissy threw her napkin at me - coffee-soaked from the spill she'd just mopped up. "You whore! No, that's not nice to whores. What you are is fucked in the head. That's what you are. You've known this asshole, what? A month? Been on a whole two fucking dates, and you kiss him?"

My hands wrapped around the steaming mug of hot chocolate in front of me. Chrissy and I had met up at Shot In The Dark about ten minutes ago. After quick Merry Christmases and shoving presents down each others throat (I'd gifted Chrissy a book she'd been wanting forever and Chrissy had thrown a gorgeous dark green halter top at my face - literally. I had to duck to avoid it) we'd gotten down to chatting about what had happened in our lives since we'd seen each other last. Chrissy had a lot to say about her family and how she'd spent Christmas, while I didn't have much to give to the conversation besides my impromptu movie night with Sam.

She wasn't taking the news well. At all.

"I assume you're a nun when you go out dating, too?" There was no bite in my words. I wasn't angry. I found her over-protective nature funny most the time, actually. The past year of dating had her acting like a teenage girl's gun-happy daddy. It reminded me of the days of my own gun-happy daddy trying to scare away prospectives, back in the day. It wasn't like it was a one-way street, either. I gave as good as I got when Chrissy went out on her dates. "No, wait. I definitely recall a conversation just a few weeks ago that went somewhere along the lines of _I gave him head in the bathroom of the restaurant we went to_ on the first date. Has he called back yet, by the way? What was his name? Riley?"

Chrissy shook her head. "That's it. Riley. He used to live down here, actually. He was in Freshman year when you were a Senior. Riley Biers? Remember him?" I did remember him, actually. He'd moved up to Seattle after school if memory served me right. Must have been back down or Thanksgiving. The party scene here in Forks was pretty abysmal, so a lot of people that wanted to go out and party ended up in Port Angeles for the night, or if they wanted something more small-town, down at a bonfire at First Beach. "Hasn't called me back, though. Asshole. Met this nice chick the other night, though. Super hot. Been texting her the last couple days. Something might come from that. Who knows?"

"What a cock. Yknow what? Fuck him. Good luck with that chick." I meant it, too. Chrissy deserved a good stable partner more than anyone I knew. I wanted the best for her. "Keep me updated."

"Every sordid detail. Promise. Now stop deflecting. Sam? I should go strangle the bastard with his own limp dick. His limp dick that better not have touched you. Did it touch you? Please tell me it didn't. I can't live with the thought of it touching you, Peg."

I couldn't hold back the laugh this time. I tried, I really did. "You're so damned over-dramatic, Chris. Calm the fuck down." Insulted twitters floated past my ears as ol' Grandma Weber and Patty Gerandy walked passed us. I paid them no mind. When I wasn't at work, I could use whatever language I wanted, gossiping old biddies be damned. "We haven't fucked yet and you have no say in whether we get to or not until you actually meet him properly. If you decide you don't like him after having a civil conversation, then we can talk about my celibacy."

I had my own free will, but I did value Chrissy's opinion above all else. If she truly didn't like Sam, then I wasn't going to just disregard her bad feeling.

Chrissy pulled a funny face. She definitely didn't like that. "Nope. I don't trust my judgement. I liked Cane, remember?"

The name brought on a long, tense pause. Cane wasn't a taboo subject between Chrissy and I. We talked about him from time to time. It was natural. He had been a big part of my life for a long time. This time had sort of blind-sided me, though. I hadn't expected it. "Yeah, so did I," I replied in a hushed voice. Maybe my judgement wasn't great, either. I'd been totally in love with all things Cane. "But I can't keep living in the past and avoiding life because he fucked me up. It's been over a year. I'm better than that now and I'm moving on. I think Sam might be what's good for me."

"You said that about Julie and Hannah, too." Her voice was dull and her expression equally so. No faith in my belief. I couldn't really blame her much. Julie had been a stepping stone, if I was being honest. She'd been great and pulled me out of a dark place, but she wasn't _the one_ material. Not even close. Hannah had been something more. We'd date for seven months and things were getting pretty serious between us before we hit a rocky patch that neither of us could really deal with.

My shoulders dipped in a timid little shrug. "They helped, Chris. They weren't total dead ends. They just weren't _it_. Sam can help, too. Whether it's for a month or if it's a little more permanent than that just stands to be seen. I'm Rizzo here, babe. I'm not gonna sit and wait for my Charming to sweep me off my feet. I gotta have a life in the interim."

She pulled a face. The expression _bulldog chewing a wasp_ came to mind. "I don't want you to get hurt, pink lady."

My answering smile was soft. "Babe, I'm always going to get hurt. It's the nature of life. I'm made of tough enough stuff to deal with a little hurt. You know that better than anyone. What I got with Sam is good for now. Okay?" Her lips were pinched into a tight pucker, but she nodded. We'd found a tentative middle ground where we both were happyish. The conversation was done. "Good. Now... ten foot tall? Dude, he's only a couple inches taller than me."

"And you're like nine foot tall! I don't get it. Your dad was short, your mom was supposed to be short, right? How did you become a giant? It's totally not fair."

* * *

For the past week Sam and I had been texting; getting to know each other, joking.

During our texting storm, Sam and I had arranged to meet at the parking lot off First Beach so we could go on a date that he'd told me he had been planning all week.

I was excited for it. Sam had clearly actually put thought into it. I was more than a little giddy. It had been a long while since I last went on a date, and even longer since I'd gone on a date someone else had planned. The last couple of people I had dated had been women, and I had tended to take control there. I was the one to plan the dates. Before Julie and Hannah was Cane. We had either not bothered going on dates at all, or, on the odd occasion, I'd done the planning there too. This was something new and different.

I heard crunching of gravel behind me and shifted around, looking over my shoulder. I'd parked up my bike in the parking lot at the edge of First Beach and had been leaning on it, occupying my time with looking out at the waves that crashed against James Island and rolled over the sand.

The moonlight illuminated Sam's figure, carrying something (at that height it could _only_ be Sam) as he circled around my bike.

A laugh escaped me when I realised what he was carrying. A woven picnic basket. "No! A picnic? How cliché can you get, Sam?" Apparently, the big date he had planned was a picnic. A picnic on the beach. A picnic on the beach at night.

Oh my god, I was having a romantic moonlit picnic on the beach with a werewolf.

Could my life get any better than this right now?

I don't think so.

"Good to see you, too," came his dry greeting as he stopped in front of me. He ducked his head to kiss me. "Are you ready for our date or do you want to laugh about it some more?"

I fisted the front of his shirt (just a thin shirt and a pair of cutoff jeans - he still couldn't dress for the weather to save his life) and pulled him down for another long, slow kiss. "I'm all ready, Akeila," I assured him. I stole another peck, then weaved our fingers together.

Sam set an ambling pace down toward the beach. Sand and pebbles crunched under our boots. "Akeila? That's not going away, is it?"

"Not as long as you still have to cock your leg to piss," I promised with complete sincerity, bumping shoulders with him teasingly. He stayed quiet. I pulled away to look up at him. "No! You actually cock your leg and piss? Fuck, that is _hilarious!_ "

His lips pressed together in an attempt at a stern expression, but he cracked up, too, and we wandered down the beach laughing together.

"This is a pretty good spot," he decided, pulling us to a stop. I stood aside as he shook out an old blanket and laid it out over the sand. We both took a seat and Sam pulled the basket closer to him, flipping it open and beginning to unload tupperware boxes. While he began to stack tupperware boxes up, I traced the design of the blanket. It wasn't a cheap fleece blanket, like the one I had set aside for picnics like this. This one was handmade, woven into such a beautiful intricate design, I was left in awe. And we were using it to sit on at the beach.

"Remember to bring potato salad?" I teased, leaning over as my finger traced a diamond shape, then the silhouette of a running wolf.

Sam sniffed. "If I had bought potato salad, you wouldn't be getting any for teasing me. I thought this was a pretty great date idea." There as a pout in his voice.

Aww, Sam. Abandoning the blanket's design, I pushed myself up onto my knees and leaned forward to kiss him again, hands bracing on his thighs. "This is the best date idea," I assured him, pulling backwards slightly to grin at him. "Totally cliché and ridiculous, but the best. Now, potato salad?"

"How about chocolate brownies instead?" He pulled the colourful lid off a tupperware box and held it up to my left. The brownies looked so tempting.

"You are speaking my language now, Sam Uley." Nothing got to me like some good chocolate brownies. And, after biting into one, I could tell you that these were _good_ chocolate brownies. Almost as good as my orange brandy chocolate brownies. That was high praise. "God, these are good. Did I snag a baker?"

"No!" He laughed, nudging me to sit back on the blanket. "You wouldn't want to see me in a kitchen. My mom made these. Most of what's in here, actually."

His mom? He had his mom help him with his date. I didn't know whether that was cute or weird. We'd been on a couple dates since Christmas, so it wasn't unusual that he'd mentioned me to his mother. But to get input on a date? That was a little weird. But maybe I felt that because I hadn't had a parent around since I was nineteen. And even when I did have my dad around, he wasn't the first person I went to for advice for a date. Would I have gone to my mom for dating advice if she had stuck around? "Well, your mom makes some damned good brownies. What other treats do we have?"

Fresh chocolate chip cookies, fresh cornbread, and the _best_ tasting fresh blueberry muffins I had ever tasted was the answer to my question. Sam's mom could bake. From the looks of the piled up tupperware tubs, she could bake and did. Frequently. I was impressed. I was a decent cook myself. I spent a decent amount of time in the kitchen. But this stuff was incredible.

"Think I could get the recipe for these?" I asked, tearing a chunk from a muffin and popping it into my mouth. "I knew the Quileute could make magic with blueberries, but this is beyond that. These are _incredible_."

Sam was ripping into his own muffin but paused to chuckle. "She's very protective over that recipe. I can try, but I'm not losing fingers to get it for you."

I huffed in mock insult. "Self-preservation over possibly becoming my human... werewolf guinea pig?"

He stared at me for a long moment, then slowly put down the muffin he was chomping on. His muscles coiled and he shifted, grin coming to his face. It took me until then to realise what he was doing. "No!" His grin just widened. I backed up a little, shaking my head. "Sam, no!" I shrieked when he pounced, scrambling backward to try and avoid him. All for nought. He managed to pin me down pretty easily. "No! No no no! _Sam!_ "

"Not if I'm gonna be your guinea pig!"

A loud giggle sounded from me when his fingers ran down my sides, then another shriek.

He attacked until I could barely breathe, chest heaving.

"Oh my God," I gasped, trying to glare up at his grinning face as I tried to breathe again. I'd ended up on my back through the one-sided tickle war, with Sam straddling me and holding me down. "You are such an asshole!" I thumped his shoulder roughly.

His smile began to fade, and what was left was smouldering. My lips parted as the air around us changed, shifting and crackling with energy. The corner of my lips curled upwards as I searched his face.

He looked so enamoured, so content.

 _I felt the same._

The thought warmed me. I truly felt the same. When I was with Sam, I felt happy. I _was_ happy. It had been a long time since I'd felt that - truly happy with someone else. The last time had been with Cane, months before our messy breakup.

My hands slid up his muscular arms, and over his broad shoulders to slide around his neck. My fingertips twirled in the fine hairs at the base of his neck. Sam shivered under the light touch.

The conversation I had with Chrissy _weeks_ ago ran through my mind.

 _I think Sam might be what's good for me._

I remembered saying it, and now, looking up into his whiskey-brown eyes, I wasn't so sure I was right.

No, I know I had been wrong about that.

Sam might not be what's good for me. My fingers ran over his neck again, drawing out another shiver. His whiskey eyes darkened. No. Sam was definitely what's good for me. Sam was so good for me. So _so_ damned good for me.

He hunkered down slightly. His breath fanned over my face. I could smell the blueberry muffin I was sure I had squished under my thigh right now on his breath. My tongue ran over my lower lip. He dropped down just a little more. His lips were curled upwards just a tad. Asshole was being slow on purpose, building anticipation.

It was working. _Asshole_.

His lips brushed against mine. My fingers weaved tighter in his short hair, pulling him closer.

A noise cut through the air.

Sam drew back, and together our brows furrowed. That noise was unmistakable. A wolf howl.

"Was that a...?" I asked, pushing my elbows under me, gaze turning to the woods at the edge of the beach.

"That was too close." Sam was already clambering to his feet. I sat up, watching him warily. "Far too close. It could be..."

"You think-" I shot to my feet when Sam took a couple steps towards the woods. My movement made him pause and turn back to me. "Another werewolf? You think it's another werewolf?"

"I don't know, but I want to make sure. If it's just a normal wolf, I wanna chase it away from the Rez. I don't want it sniffing around. It could hurt someone. I'm- I'm sorry, Peggy. I don't want to cut this short, but-" He looked so pained at the thought of cutting our date short.

"But you're a spirit warrior, and you gotta protect your people. From other werewolves or just ordinary wolves," I replied. I understood it. I wasn't bitter. If he could protect his people, even if it was something small, then he should do it. I wouldn't stop him. Not a snowball's chance in hell. In fact, I was pretty sure I'd be more angry at him if he chose to stay with me over making sure La Push was safe from potentially supernatural threats. "Go save the Rez, Akeila. I'll pack this stuff up. Give the basket and shit back to you next time I see you."

He grinned and pulled me close with a firm grip on my hips, ducking to press a hasty kiss to my lips. "Thank you, Peg. Really, _thank you._ I love you. Send me a text when you get home so I know you got home safe." After giving the order, he pressed another kiss to my lips then took off towards the woods.

I watched him go, huffing slightly when he disappeared into the tree line.

 _I love you._

He said it every time we parted ways, every time one of the handful of dates we'd had over the last month came to an end, every time a phone call ended. Even when he was rushing, like he just had been, he said it. There was never any hesitation, never a forgetful moment. He said it. It always sent a warm feeling through me, because despite my current silence after he said it, he didn't stop, didn't cringe away knowing I didn't feel the same yet.

My lips curled upwards as I drew the tupperware box of brownies towards me, pressing the colourful plastic lid down firmly.

* * *

 **Another chapter done! Jared's on his way, boys!**

* * *

 **V:** I'm glad you're liking the story so far! I have a lot of fun writing Peggy, and I'm just as excited for the other wolves. This story is going to be really heavy on the pack and their interactions, so there'll be a _lot_ of wolf and Peggy interactions. And thank you for the tip!

.

 **FreyaHawthorne:** Thank you! I'm glad you like how I'm writing this. I always worry that I'm a bit disjointed in the way I write, or that I'm not going in a solid direction. I'm also really glad I'm writing the Irish-ness of Peggy well. I'm from an Italian-English family myself, so I'm sorta fudging the Irishness a little.

I'm definitely pushing the Quileute connection to their past, their land, and the others of their tribe in this fic. You'll see more of it in the near future, I promise. The next chapter will actually have quite a lot of closeness and werewolf-y interaction.

.

 **Kenzie. hale:** Thank you for your review, and thank you for sharing. I've found a saddening lack of realistically portrayed characters with mental illnesses myself. I hope I can carry on writing it as realistically as possible.

On another note, I know I'm just a writer of a fic that you've read, but if you're ever struggling and want help, my inbox is always open. As someone that has also suffered with self-harm and depression myself, I feel it's important to build a community of support to help others any way that you can.


	7. Chapter 7

**Guys, we have Jared and Paul. I hope you're ready for this!**

 **I can tell you I was super excited for these two to finally show up. There's gonna be a lot of bonding going on here.  
**

* * *

 **Surrender**  
Twilight

Sam Uley / OC

* * *

 _The great thing about new friends is that they bring new energy to your soul_

* * *

A groan escaped me when an obnoxious ringing sound flooded my dreams. My arm reached out from under my blanket, blindly searching for my phone. I found it, after knocking my current reading project ( _Howl's Moving Castle - I was on a British literature kick_ ) from the bedside table, and dragged it inside the warm cocoon I had created for myself. I cracked an eye reluctantly, squinting at the bright screen that lit up my room. _Ouch._

 **Sam Calling**

A second, louder groan sounded when my eyes turned up to the clock in the corner of my screen.

 **7:45**

It was too early to be awake on a Saturday that wasn't dedicated to hiking. Sam was crazy.

"If this isn't you calling to tell me that you're stood at my door wearing just a thong I'm hanging up and going back to bed," I threatened in a croak, thick with sleep. I wasn't good when I was woken up before my time. It took a long while (and some caffeine-related help) for me to wake up enough to grace human presence with an acceptable amount of enthusiasm.

"No door, no thong." He didn't sound the least bit apologetic. If anything, he sounded amused. Ass.

I hung up.

I'd just rolled over to go back to sleep again when my phone rang again. I huffed and took a second to consider just leaving it to ring out. Why talk to my boyfriend this early in the morning if he wasn't gracing me with his scantily clad presence?

"You hung up? Seriously?" he asked, laughing.

"Hey, I warned you. No thong, no girlfriend."

His deep, rich laughter was infectious. I found myself chuckling along with him as I rubbed the sleep from my eyes and pushed myself to sit up, propped against the headboard."Can I convince you to get up and come over to La Push today? Even though I've disappointed you with my lack of thong? That you'll never get me to wear, just so we're on the same page." I whined. Damn. He'd look good in one, too. "No. So, La Push? I want you to meet the new pack member."

"New pack member?" I was less groggy now, and _marginally_ less sore about the apparent ban on thongs. "So last night...?" Our (extremely cheesy) date had been cut short, and neither of us were sure whether it was an actual wolf that had wandered far too close to the Rez, or whether it was a new werewolf on the block. Sam had gone off to play Sherlock Holmes while I had cleaned up and taken myself home. This call must have been him checking in with the news of his discovery.

"Yeah. Jared Cameron." He spoke the name in a way that made me feel like I should know it. I supposed if I was from La Push, I would know. It was such a small place, with a population of less than four hundred, that I was sure everyone knew everyone there. It was like that in Forks, and we had ten times the amount of people. "I know his older brother," he clarified when he didn't get any noises of recognition out of me. "He tags along sometimes. He's only fourteen."

" _Fourteen_?" Shit, that was young to go through such a life-changing transformation. Kid had barely started going through puberty, and now he had to add werewolfism to his growing list of shit to deal with? Being a teenager was hard enough without having a furry little problem. "How's he taking it?"

I could _hear_ his eyes rolling through the phone. "He's _thrilled._ Werewolves, y'know?"

A little laugh bubbled up. Yeah, I suppose I could see the allure. Spending your life being surrounded by supernatural fiction, then finding out that the fiction you were hung up over is actually real is incredible. That bit I knew from experience. To find out you were one of those supernaturals? It must have been like every Christmas coming all at once. But it was still a huge change. As _cool_ as it sounded, I wasn't so sure I'd be thrilled if it happened to me. I'd already seen the shitty side of Werewolfism. "I'll bet. So when do you want me to show up and scare the shit out of the newbie?"

"Is an hour enough time to get ready for a little hike? The weather's supposed to be pretty good. I want to build a bonfire on Third Beach and spend the day."

I hadn't been to Third Beach in ages, and a good La Push bonfire in even longer. How did he managed to get me excited about being up and ready before nine am on a Saturday in a five-minute conversation? Could werewolves be witches, too? "An hour is plenty. I'll meet you two at the trailhead at nine. Is there anything you want me to bring?"

* * *

Sam was sat on a bench by the kiosk at the top of the trail to Third Beach, chatting with an excitable kid when I arrived. That must have been Jared.

Sam had his back to me. _Perfect_.

I carefully set my bag down and began creeping towards him, pressing my finger to my lips when Jared caught sight of me.

Bless him, Jared kept Sam occupied pretty damn well as I continued creeping, avoiding crunching the gravel beneath my feet, and holding my breath as I got closer. Super werewolf hearing would catch me out if I wasn't _super_ careful. My hands dropped down on Sam's shoulders and I whispered 'boo' into his ear. No reaction. I pouted, my hands sliding from his shoulders and around his neck to hug him from behind. "You could at least pretend to act surprised."

His hands found my wrists, holding them gently. His thumbs pushed under the sleeves of my shirt, rubbing tenderly over the skin. One thumb just caught the edge of a scar. "I'm not that great of an actor," he responded dryly, turning his head to kiss me. His lips found my jaw first, then peppered my skin with little kisses as he went in search for my lips.

I was chuckling quietly by the time our lips met. The kiss was gentle, slow and unhurried.

"So this is Peggy?" Jared asked when we pulled back, eager for introductions.

"This is," I replied with a nod, resting my chin on Sam's shoulder, and shifting onto the edge of the bench so I was knelt on it behind Sam rather than standing over him awkwardly. "And you're Jared, right? The newest member of the cock-your-leg-when-you-piss patrol."

"Peggy!" Sam elbowed me, which made Jared and I laugh.

I kissed Sam's cheek, then nuzzled against it. "I'm not judging. Just... taking the piss a little."

Sam gave an all-suffering sigh then gave his thigh a purposeful slap. "All right, let's get moving before Peg finds another way to insult us."

The only warning I got that he was planning something was when a grin lit up his face. His hands grabbed my forearms firmly and he shot to his feet, holding me in place before the warning could even register. The sudden shift had me clinging to him tightly. "Sam!" I shrieked, laughing as I wrapped my legs around his waist. "A little warning next time? You're such a dick!"

He laughed, hands dropping from my arms to my thighs, and pulling them upwards to adjust me on his back. "Let's get going. Grab her bag, Jared."

"You're going to carry me to the beach?" I rested my cheek against the side of his head as Sam began trudging towards the trail. Jared fell in line with us, my bag slung over one shoulder. "When you asked me if I fancied a hike down to Third Beach, I thought I might actually be hiking. Is that a strange assumption to make?"

"Very," he replied simply.

I shook my head with a smile, squeezing my arms around him. "So, Jared. You've been a werewolf for a whole five minutes, but how are you liking it so far? Before the fleas get to you? That's Sam's least favourite part, y'know; the fleas. His favourite is the endless hours of amusement he gets from chasing his tail." I clung to Sam tightly when he jerked me roughly, almost letting me drop to the floor. "Asshole."

Another peal of laughter came from Jared. "I love it. I grew up with stories about them - the tribe's protectors. Who'd have thought that they were real? That I was one of them? It's so cool!" His face lit up as he spoke, and the hand not holding my bag strap waved in excited gesticulations. He was so genuinely psyched about becoming a werewolf. It was one thing speculating why on the phone with Sam this morning and another seeing exactly how excited he truly was face to face. It was like becoming a werewolf was the best thing that had ever happened to him.

"Until you get fleas," I teased.

"Until I get fleas," he agreed with the same jovial light-heartedness.

"No one's getting fleas." Sam shook his head. I could almost hear his eyes rolling.

I grinned against his neck. "Good, 'cause I would definitely make you wear a flea collar, and they're not exactly the most fashion-forward things in the world. Not sure I wanna be seen around someone wearing a dog collar."

A whoosh of shocked air escaped me when the world suddenly shifted. My ass hit the ground. A shock of pain ran through me. Shit, _ouch!_ In retaliation, my foot lashed out to his ankle. It buckled under the blow, and Sam dropped, catching himself before he could actually hit the ground. Damn. I'd hoped that he would end up on the floor right beside me.

"Almost," Sam teased, offering his hand to help me up. He hauled me up, then dropped an arm around my shoulders.

Jared was red-faced and almost crying with laughter as he followed us. "You two are hilarious together!"

"Honey, Sam's hilarious by himself," I teased, digging my fingers into Sams hip.

Sam gave a great sigh, shaking his head as he pulled me closer. He failed at hiding his smile.

* * *

There were a lot of people at the beach that day - a lot of teens and young adults lounging around little bonfires, some with food, some with alcohol. Most were from La Push. I only counted a handful of non-Quileutes throughout the whole day.

By the time sunset came around, there were only two bonfires besides our own across the whole beach. One was occupied by a little family, and the other was empty for the moment - it's owners were a few feet out, passing a football between themselves.

I scooted closer to our bonfire, reaching my fingers out to warm them on the crackling blue flames.

Sam's attention shifted from his conversation with Jared (working out the kinks of patrolling the area every now and again for stray vampires - something I wasn't interested in listening to) to me. "You cold?" Before I could give an answer, he was shrugging out of his jacket. He shifted over to swing the jacket around my shoulders, drawing it around my body.

My hands gripped the jacket, pulling it closer. The heat coming from it was incredible. I'd never get over how hot Sam actually was. For someone with circulation problems, it was a godsend. My own personal handwarmer in the form of a boyfriend. "Thanks, hon." We shared a sweet little kiss.

"Don't mention it." Instead of moving back over towards Jared, Sam leaned against me, tucking me into his side.

I rested my head on his shoulder. I was starting to love being tucked in against his side like this.

When it seemed like the patrolling conversation wasn't going to start up again, I decided to shift ourselves back to something a little more human. "Hey, Jared, can you grab the shit from the middle pocket of my bag?"

Jared opened up my bag obediently, then wooped. "Smores? I haven't made smores since I was a kid."

I tutted. "Unacceptable, Mr Cameron. We have to remedy that _immediately_. Go find us some good marshmallow sticks."

He hopped up and disappeared towards the edge of the beach before I had even finished giving the order. There'd definitely be some good marshmallow roasting sticks around.

I watched him go. "He's a good kid, Sam. You'll look after him when you guys get into trouble, right? He's so young."

Sam's fingers entwined with mine, squeezing gently. "I won't let him get hurt." His thumb ran over my knuckles gently. "I don't even want him patrolling too much. Just enough to give him purpose. If we're lucky, he won't meet a vampire."

"Then let's hope we're lucky. I mean, what vampire wants to come to a small town?" Well, y'know, except the vampires that liked Sunnydale or Bon Temps, or Fell's Church... Okay, scratch the last question. Small towns were apparently a mecca for vampire activity. Maybe I should start walking around with garlic in my pocket. "Okay... Maybe we can chain him up in the backyard? Build him a dog house for shade?" I tilted my head up to grin at Sam, but bolted upright mid-way through the turn. "That's it!"

Sam's hand found my shoulder. "What's it?"

"Snoopy." My grin was wide. I'd cracked it. "I'm totally calling him Snoopy."

"Him? _Jared_?" Sam snorted. "Snoopy? Really?"

"What's with Snoopy?" Jared asked, holding up his haul to show us. Three really good marshmallow-roasting sticks.

"Just deciding your nickname, babe. Now gimme. I've been craving smores since I packed them this morning."

" _Snoopy?_ I _guess_ it's okay." He grimaced, showing me exactly the opposite. Too bad. I'd decided and my word was law on these nicknames. None of them were ever going away.

"It's perfect," I insisted.

The three of us dropped into light chatter while we made up our smores. We marshmallowed our sticks and held them out to the fire. Jared was a two-at-a-time roaster. Sam was a stick-it-right-into-the-flame-and-blacken-it roaster. I was a show-it-the-flame-and-it's-done roaster.

I was the first to chomp down on a completed smore.

"Whoa, head's up!"

A second later, I jerked forward with an oof. Something had hit the back of my shoulder. Hard. My smore went sailing right into the fire. Shit, what a waste.

Sam and Jared were on their feet before I recovered.

A guy ran towards us, looking sheepish. "Shit, sorry. You all right?"

Sam muscled forwards, stepping half in front of me. "Watch what you're doing, Lahote." His body was so tense it was shaking slightly. Jared was almost as bad.

"Hey!" I jumped to my feet, sweeping around Sam, laying a hand on his arm. " _Chill._ It was just a ball. What's with the testosterone?" I turned my head to the newbie. He was tall, was the first thing I noticed. A little taller than Jared, who was already taller than I was. He had Jared's youthful appearance, too. And the body-shaking tenseness. Why was everyone getting so worked up over a frigging errant football? "I'm fine, don't worry about it." I ducked to pick up the ball and held it out to him. "You and your guys wanna join us for smores? You're gonna have to find your own sticks, though."

"Peggy, what're you doing?" Jared grunted in my ear.

 _Lahote_ grinned. "Smores? Can't say no to that. We'll go grab some sticks."

When he disappeared, I was confronted with two not so happy campers. "What has the two of you so pissed off?"

"He hurt you." Sam. He was _livid._

I rolled my eyes. "Seriously? He pegged me with a football. He didn't beat me to death. Stray footballs happen. Chill the fuck out, would you? Now, sit down, roast some marshmallows and enjoy tonight, because who fucking cares about a football?"

Sam held my gaze for a long moment before sighing. "Fine."

Despite himself: enjoy himself, he did. We all did, actually. It was great. There was an us and them divide between the two groups initially. It was clear Lahote (Paul) and his friends weren't close with Jared or Sam, though he and Jared were in the same school year and most of the same classes so knew each other pretty well. They got on well enough to make the night a pretty great one, and when Paul and I started belting out _Scorpions_ together, the us and them divide dissolved completely.

Eventually the group began to peter out. Jared was the first to leave, followed shortly after by Paul and his friends. That left Sam and I alone.

"We're doomed to constantly share romantic moments together on the beach, aren't we?" I teased, walking my fingers up his chest as I cuddled closer to him. It was something I enjoyed. I hadn't really ever been one for fantasising about romantic moments on the beach, but the more of them I had with Sam, the more I was coming to enjoy them.

His hand came up, fingers encircling my wrist gently, pulling it up towards his mouth. "It a curse..." His voice faded out and his brows drew together. His fingers began tracing the raised ridges on my skin. "Your scars..."

My lips quivered in shock for a moment before I retreated a little, pulling my hand back. His grip tightened slightly, holding it hostage. "Sam..." I couldn't tell whether that was a warning or a plead. The waver in my voice made it sound _way_ too much like a plead for my liking.

"You share a lot, Peggy. It's good. Refreshing. Sometimes getting reasons for why she's angry at me from Leah was like pulling teeth. You're always upfront about how you feel. It's _great_. There's no walking on eggshells, because there aren't any." His brows furrowed tighter. "But you don't tell me anything about the past. Nothing... emotional. Peggy, if I ask, will you tell me?"

I swallowed back the lump in my throat.

This had gotten very intense very quickly.

He was right, though. I knew he was right. The divide between us sharing the past was clear. Sam shared a lot. He was so open about pretty much every part of himself. I knew that some of his favourite moments in life were spent with Harry Clearwater, learning how to fish, or with his grandpa Levi, listening to stories about the tribe's history. I knew that he was at his worst when his father had come back to La Push when he was twelve for Levi's funeral, and Joshua wanted nothing to do with him. Didn't want to even look at him. I knew that he clashed a lot with his mom and struggled living with her, but loved her dearly. I _knew_ the ups and downs of his life.

Me? I shared the here and now. If I wasn't happy with him, I told him. If I was happy, he knew. Emotions weren't a problem with me. But the past? What did he know about what made Peggy Peggy? He knew that I was an orphan, that all I had in the way of family was Old Pat. But what else did he know? He didn't know about how little of a shit I gave about my mom. He didn't know that I couldn't live without my music. I wasn't sure he knew that I played guitar. He didn't know about the depression or Cane or the shit I went through in the last year and a half to come back to myself.

I gave a shuddering breath. "You want to know about the scars." It wasn't a question.

He nodded anyway.

"Okay." I had promised him that I would try to make things work with him. That conversation was months ago, but I remembered it like it happened yesterday. With how much he shared with me, it was only fair. A part of me wanted him to know. I _liked_ Sam. I wanted him to know - to know what he was getting into, what he had to deal with.

I'd been waiting for the impossibly perfect moment to tell him all this. The perfect moment, the right time, that would never arrive.

No, that wasn't right. I couldn't bullshit myself. Not with this.

I'd been avoiding it. I didn't want him to know all of this and look at me differently, come to realise how fucked up I was. Leave me.

 _The screams. Ball. Tighter. Smaller. Smaller. You'll never find anyone like me again! Smallersmallersmaller._

"Just... Let me talk. This... It's not easy."

* * *

 **Who caught the Harry Potter reference?**

 **Are you ready for the next chapter? It's not going to be a happy one, but it paves the way for much more.**

* * *

 **Emilee -** I'm so glad you enjoyed these chapters enough to binge-read them all! I'm super glad you like Peggy and Chrissy too. I have so much fun writing them. Chrissy will be making an appearance again very soon and you'll get a lot more Peg and Chris interaction.

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 **MoonGoddess00 -** Thank you! I'm glad you love it!

.

 **lsxlbrn -** There's a little pack interaction in this chapter. I hope you appreciated it! The packs still only a baby pack right now. Sam and Jared, though Paul will be wolfing out very soon. Pack interaction will be much more fun when there's more of them.

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 **Annalise17 -** Thank you!

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 **treesofsilverleaves -** Thank you! Im glad you think Peggy's quite a realistic character. I'm putting a lot of effort into trying to keep her as realistic as I can.


	8. Chapter 8

This chapter was a difficult one for me. I'm sorry it took so long to bring out, but it wasn't an easy one to write.

* * *

 **WARNING! WARNING!**

 **This chapter contains in-depth descriptions of abuse, depression and attempted suicide. Please be warned before reading this chapter. This is _not_ a happy one.**

* * *

 **Surrender  
** Twilight

Sam Uley / OC

* * *

The heat of the fire barely warmed me.

I felt cold, and it had nothing to do with the chilly evening or the little distance I'd put between me and my almost-constantly-feverish boyfriend. This chill was something far beyond the physical.

I swallowed around the lump that was still trying to choke me as my fingers pushed under the sleeves of my shirt, running over the scars that cut through the flower design inked onto my skin. This was something I, somewhat foolishly, hoped I wouldn't have to talk about with Sam. The past couple months I'd been hoping that he'd never ask, that he'd never get curious.

More fool me.

Sam had noticed the scars a couple of times. I wouldn't forget the way they almost tingled when Sam brushed his thumb over them so gently back in December before we'd begun to date.

That moment made a part of me realise that this conversation was going to come up and it would have to be talked about. I couldn't escape it, no matter how much hopeful denial I had buried myself under.

I let out a shaky breath, eyes following a cracking cinder dancing through the salty blue flames.

"I... There's some backstory you need to know first."

Sam stayed quiet, letting me speak in my own time. I couldn't thank him enough for that. I didn't think I'd find the bolster to actually tell this tale of Sam was going to interrupt me.

"After I graduated high school, I went up to college in Port Angeles. It was close enough to home that I could just commute every day. It worked well for both me and my dad when he was around. I'd drive up, get all my classes out of the way, then come back down, make dinner for us. It was a good routine." And I was babbling.

"On my third day of lectures, I decided to do some forward reading for a couple classes in the library so I ended up staying in Port Angeles pretty late. I stopped off at a diner on the way home for a quick bite and some much-needed caffeine. When I was there I met this..." I exhaled sharply then gave a wan smile. "Charming. God, he was so charming back then. This guy, Cane..."

 _Fucking_ Cane.

My nails scraped over my scars.

Sam was silent, but it wasn't the curious silence it had been a moment ago. He was tense. He already knew that Cane was the cause of the scars. Sam was a very astute man.

"The diner was packed. Don't think I've ever seen a diner so full. Maribel's certainly never gets that full." Stalling again. I took a moment, staring hard into the fire. It was starting to burn out. It wouldn't last too much longer. Half an hour, maybe, if it wasn't fed, until it as reduced to smouldering embers. Eventually I found strength in the small flames to carry on. "I'd managed to get the last table, a booth in the corner. Cane came in not long after me and had nowhere to sit. No tables free and no one moving anytime soon. He ended up asking me if he could sit at my table, no interaction necessary. Interaction happened, obviously. He was hot; he was sweet and funny. We talked and talked for _hours._ Ended up getting kicked out at closing time. It was the sort of shit you see in those really shitty romance novels. We hit it off _that_ well."

It really had been perfect then. So wonderfully perfect.

What a fucking _idiot_ I was. I'd fallen so fucking stupid in love so quickly. Stupid, dreamy teenager. That's what I had been. And I wouldn't have changed that meeting or the first few blissful months together for the world.

My thumb pressed so hard against my scarred inner wrist that I could feel the thundering of my pulse under my skin. I was almost certain that it was going to leave a tiny bruise. Both my wrist and my thumb were beginning to ache a little, but I couldn't stop. Feeling my pulse was a comfort. Especially when I was telling this story.

My pulse was strong. I was alive. I'd survived it.

Barely, but barely was _enough_.

"We exchanged numbers before we split ways. We were texting all night. We'd made such great first impressions and neither of us were what you'd call patient people. We had our first date the next night after I was done with lectures for the day. He took me to this amazing sushi place. He put too much wasabi on a piece of inari and ended up crying," I reminisced with a half-hearted chuckle. It was a hollow sound, painful to my ears, and choked at the end as tears built.

Now the memory just made me sad. I sniffed, trying to hold back the tears prickling at my eyes, for an entirely different reason than I had in the memory. Already. We were still at the good part. _Fuck._ "Date one was followed by two and three and four. After the first month, I started spending nights at his place. Being up in Port Angeles was so much more handy for me, with college and everything. I think my dad appreciated the alone time too. Half living with him was a win for everyone." It was a win for everyone. The situation had been incredible.

I heaved a deep sigh, choked up slightly by the prickling tears. "It was utter bliss." My tone wasn't a happy one. "We were so in love. Everything was damn near fucking perfect. We lived well together, barely argued, _so_ compatible in bed. Nothing could go wrong."

What a fucking fool I'd been for believing that. I was never so naive, yet I'd believed that without hesitation.

 _Stupid. Stupid._

Sam shifted in the sand beside me, pulling just a little bit closer as if he knew that I'd come to the end of the happy part of the story and I needed comfort. I could almost feel the heat of his skin again he'd drawn so close again.

I tried not to flinch away. I wasn't sure I was very successful, but he didn't say anything about my evasiveness.

"Things started to change. I don't know when. In fact, I don't think there was ever a definitive time that things changed. It had been going on right from the start, in some way or another. It just got worse and started to build up. Arguments began, over the most stupid things, then got worse. More frequent. More vicious. You know, until that point in my life, I'd never been called a cunt. It was an insult I'd never received. Then I poured him orange juice when he fancied apple juice one morning..."

I shook my head. "They were just arguments, though. Words. They weren't so bad. Loud and vicious, but it takes two to tango. I was never the sort of person to lay down and take his shit blindly. I gave as good as I got." That had made it okay in my head. We aregued, but it was _we._ He wasn't the only one that screamed and threw insults. He wasn't the only one in the wrong then.

My fingers wound viciously into the sleeve of my shirt. My knuckles brushed against scarred skin. I could feel the tension in Sam's body. It was almost humming beneath his skin like an energy. He was _not_ happy with the turn of my story.

He had only touched the surface.

"Things got worse. He started making decisions for me. I relented sometimes. Picked my battles. I wasn't going to start an argument about not wearing yellow anymore. Who cares if I have to throw out a couple shirts? The arguments weren't worth it." Those little things meant nothing. They were things I could deal with. "Then I couldn't see Chrissy. I couldn't come back to Forks to visit dad. I couldn't go for a walk along the trails to clear my head. I fought everything, but he found ways to make me submit. Bullying, threatening. Sometimes it got scary."

My nails bit into my scars, digging deep into my skin, scratching, as if I could gouge away the raised skin. "He followed through with the threats." I sniffed and squeezed m eyes shut as the burning got too much. My head bowed, hair falling forwards into my face, nails biting harder into my skin. "A slap, a kick. Bruises. But I was so in love with him. It was too easy for me to forgive him the odd bruise. I could cover them, pretend they didn't exist. We were _happy._ "

 _Burning. Crying. No, please. I'll do it, baby. Stop!_

"Split lips, twisted ankles. Limps and slings. I stopped forgiving him, but I couldn't just leave him. I-I didn't love what he was then, but besides the hurt, life was okay. Good. I was doing well at college, I had a home, a job, a partner that everyone around me adored. How could I complain when I had all that when other people had none of it?" The sting in my wrist was getting painful. My nails were starting to tear the skin, rip at the scars.

My breathing was coming in shaky pants around my harsh sobs. Stones shifted again underneath Sam's weight and arms wrapped around me; warm, rough hands slid down my arms. He gripped my hands gently, guiding them apart, curling them instead against my chest as he pulled me against his own, tucking me under his chin. He was almost vibrating as he held me, shaking as much as I was.

I wanted to stop, to curl up against him and forget it all.

But this was what he wanted. He wanted to hear all this shit.

"He cracked my ribs kicking me in a really bad fight. I had to get away. Had to go. Just for a few hours. To get away from him. To leave without really leaving. I should have gone to the hospital. I was in so much pain. Breathing hurt. But I just drove. The car took me to Forks. To my house. The house dad raised me in. He was already dead then and I'd sold the house, moved in with Cane. I parked up and just sat there for ages."

My tears started to slow as the numb set in. The emotion seeped from my voice, leaving it as cold as I felt.

I had to detach. I couldn't think about it. I _couldn't._

"I got out of the car and started walking. There was a trail right behind my house. I spent my life in the woods as a kid. It was my safe haven and the one thing I needed right then was to feel safe. I walked and just- just walked. For ages. Hours, deeper and deeper. Off the path, past my childhood den. I just kept going. The pain got too much. I stopped and-" I gagged at the memory, curling closer to Sam. "There was a beer bottle there. A camper must have left it there. I saw it and I just- I-"

The heavy breathing started again with a new flood of tears. "It all had to end, Sam. The lies and the pain and the hurt. It had to end. I couldn't do it any more. I smashed the bottle against a tree. The shards-" I gripped at his large hands, pressing my forehead against them as I heaved and gasped. "It couldn't be the end. I couldn't let that be the end. I was- God, so much. It was everywhere. Staining everything. I ran. I ran through the pain and the fog. I couldn't breathe for my ribs, couldn't see for the tears. The bloodloss was killing me. I don't know how I did it. Those cuts were made with purpose. There wasn't supposed to be any coming back from them. I was running on desperation and stupidity.

"It was a miracle I got to the hospital without crashing. I was barely conscious when I stumbled into A and E. I collapsed right into a doctor's arms and begged him to save me with my last strength." A laugh, bitter with hysteria, bubbled in my throat. Somehow I had managed the impossible that day. I'd saved myself. With the last of my strength that day I had collapsed into the arms of Carlisle Cullen and saved the life I had tried to take away from myself.

Shaking and crying and laughing and so disoriented by the rush of awful memories that I was a second behind my body.

Cold.

Hot.

 _Burning._

I screamed.

* * *

Everything felt... fuzzy.

Beep... Beep... Beep...

I knew that sound. That was... That was a heart rate monitor.

My eyes opened. No, one eye opened. The other wouldn't. It was stuck shut. Why was it shut?

My vision was blurry. It wouldn't focus.

It didn't need to focus for me to recognise what I was seeing, though. That was a sight I would never forget. The stark white ceiling tiles of a hospital.

I was in hospital.

Why?

"-Ouise. Louise. You're in the hospital. You were in an accident."

My unfocused gaze drifted up to the sound of the voice.

 _I was with Sam. Down at the beach. Cane. I was telling him about Cane. Then... Then what happened?_

Beep Beep Beep.

Pain. I remembered pain, then nothing. Pain, like something was clawing at my skin. Like I was being torn apart.

I choked. Something was in my throat. A tube.

A ventilator?

"Louise. You need to calm down. Louise."

The claws. He'd shifted. So close. His claws had torn through me as he'd tried to push away from me. It wasn't like I was being torn apart. I was being torn apart.

BeepBeepBeep.

"Louise."

 _BeepBeepBeep._

"Peggy!" That voice. I knew that voice. Jared. A hot hand squeezed mine. My fingers twitched in response, my hand twisting to grip his better. "Peggy, you gotta calm down so they can take the tube out. Calm down, okay?"

My blurry eye squeezed shut, and with a jolt of pain in my face I tried to ground myself.

BeepBeepBeep

I was in the hospital. Sam must have got me here.

What day was it?

Beep Beep Beep

"That's good, Louise. Keep calm now and I'm going to take this tube out. Slowly now."

I gagged when the tube was pulled from my throat. That was a feeling that I was never going to get used to.

Jared's hand squeezed mine tightly again. My eyelid peeled back and I searched out his blurry form.

"Sam?" My voice was a raspy croak, muffled in a strange way that I couldn't understand.I hoped Jared did.

Where was Sam? It had to be him that brought me here, so where was he?

Was he okay?

* * *

 **If anything in this chapter truly upset you or triggered any negative emotions, please don't be scared to seek help or someone to talk to. My inbox will always be open, and I check it frequently, for those of you that need someone to talk to that don't have their own support system.**

* * *

I actually didn't plan for Sam mauling Peggy to happen for at least two more chapters, but my fingers ran away from me. But this, I think, fits quite well. Sam's a fairly new werewolf and from reading the books, I don't think he focused on making himself calm until after he'd accidentally mauled Emily. I think all the struggle Peggy has been through would definitely set off a werewolf. It'd certainly set me off if a friend of mine ever came to me with those problems

* * *

 **Bloody Rice Ball -** Thank you for the review! I do try to make Peggy realistic. There are people that are so consumed by depressions that they don't think about or do other things, but Peggy isn't really one of those people anymore.

Haha, I guess carrot and corriander soup is an English thing, then? I know Americans call corriander cilantro so I just guessed. It wouldn't be the first thing I've guessed wrong! Thank you for pointing them out to me. I'll try and remember to call them cans in the future, too.

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 **xxMissUnicornxx**

AHAH YES! Someone that got the reference!

I'm gonna try and keep it up. This chapter was hard for me to write for a number of reasons, which is why it took so long for me to bring it out. But since we've got past this bit, I'm hoping that chapters will now be easier to write and get out for you guys.

Now go study, Unicorn!

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 **Guest**

Thank you! I plan to keep going, don't worry!

.

 **atal23**

Thank you! I'm glad you like Peggy, even though she probably didn't make you laugh too much in this chapter

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 **xIsntItFunnyx**

Peggy loses a lot of her mystery in this chapter. There are still plenty of things to find out about her, but a lot of the things I've been building up in the last few chapters (her scars, what happened a year ago, _him_ ) are explained in a good bit of detail here.

Thank you! I've spent my life with either a pencil or pen in hand, working on finding my image with my art, and my voice with my writing. I'm glad Im at the point where I can show I have a voice in my writing! That's a major compliment. And you're right. I was initially gonna end it there and have Peg freak out about it in the next chapter, but that would make for two very short chapters, so I smushed them together.

Peggy definitely isnt the type of fall into love so easily right now, nor go without logic. She's struggling with the situation, for sure. I know I certainly would, too. I'm glad I'm able to make it at least somewhat realistic, with the supernatural elements involved.

There is so much sexual tension between them and more to come. Peggy is a pretty loose character, but at this point Sam's an eighteen year old guy that's only had one serious relationship before, and he's a pretty genuine character. He's holding back out of respect. It'll take a bit of time yet until that tension is relieved.

Oh, I promise you there'll be backlash, and some resolution that you certainly won't be expecting, and something I've wanted to play around with right from the beginning. There's no way that Leah can be edged out of their lives seamlessly. There are only three hundred people living in La Push. There's no way Sam can carry on living there and not deal with the consequences of it all. Trust me, there will be consequences. And soon, at that. Look out for them 'cause they're coming in the next couple chapters. Or, at least, the beginning of them are.

All the pressure and stress Sam is under will be addressed. I believe in equality in relationships above all else. Peggy isn't the only one with troubles that she needs help being guided through by a strong partner. Sam will need that help, too, and Peg's got some pretty strong shoulders for him to cry on when he needs them. That time will come, I assure you.

And I hope this was enough 'two-steps-back' for you in this chapter. The happenings of this chapter are certainly going to haunt the two of them for a long long time. Not just the mauling, either. What was revealed in this chapter is gonna be a strong source of tension.

The Disney reference in chapter four was when Peggy called Sam Akela. Akela is the alpha Wolf in the pack that took Mowgli in at the start of The Jungle Book. All the Wolf Boys are gonna get nicknames related to some TV wolf/dog or another. So far we have Akela and Snoopy, and I have a LONG list of other nicknames that are gonna happen. Just wait until Jake gets his nickname. Everyone'll have a laugh at that.

I'm trying for a realistic push and pull. If every relationship was as dramatic and full of tension as some writers portray, no one would be in one. Peggy certainly wouldn't. These two have a good balance of push and pull, tension and fun. This chapter is just tension though. They'll have plenty of battles to pick in the near future.

The Harry Potter reference was when Peggy called their shapeshifting their 'furry little problem'. In the Marauders era, James used to call Remus' lycanthropy his furry little problem. Remus reminisced about it with Harry in Half-Blood Prince.

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 **When I Make It Shine**

Thank you! I won't ask you if you enjoyed this chapter, but hopefully you'll enjoy future chapters!


	9. Chapter 9

**We're back with something a little less dramatic and terrifying now.**

 **Thank you to everyone that reviewed the last chapter. It was very much appreciated!**

* * *

 **Surrender  
** Twilight

Sam Uley / OC

* * *

I was getting jittery.

That feeling was _so_ not good when you were laid up in a hospital bed in constant pain.

The past fortnight had been a blur of shit that I could barely, and scarcely bother to, remember. I'd seen more faces than I could put names to, received more prayers and well-wishes than I could ever think to speak myself, been given so many flowers and cards that I couldn't breathe without being choked with the cloying scent of roses and carnations. Dosed on some pretty metal meds, I took every flower, prayer and watery smile with a scarred smile of my own. Something I couldn't hope to ever do without the help of them.

Despite all these faces, the one face that I wanted to see didn't show up.

Despite all the prayers, there was one voice that hadn't uttered one for me.

Despite all the flowers and cards, there was one name I never saw signed.

Sam Uley was avoiding me.

The one thing I didn't want right now was for Sam Uley to avoid me.

Fuck the wishes and wants that I'd usually be having. I wish this hadn't happened. I wish I'd heal instantly. I wish this wouldn't be a ridiculous bill I couldn't afford to pay. I wish. I wish. I wish.

 _I wished Sam Uley would be here with me._

 _That_ was the only real wish and want right now.

Well, maybe the lack of bill, too. I was _not_ looking forward to the thousand extra shifts at Marigolds I'd need to start paying _that_ one off.

A knock sounded at my door and I lifted my head curiously when it opened, shaking thoughts of Sam from my mind for now. I knew it wouldn't be Sam at the door. I didn't want to be so encompassed by thoughts of him that I'd ignore my current company.

"Carlisle." My voice was muffled and snarled. With thick bandages compressing the stitched wounds that had completely shredded through my cheek in some places, I found it hard to speak. It was getting easier every day, but I wasn't anywhere near as fluid with my speech as I was. My every word was slurred and awkward as I tried to get used to the new shape of my mouth.

I got many fluttering orders to stop speaking and just let myself heal, but I had to get used to this now. I wasn't going to let myself heal before I assessed the damage to my verbal autonomy. I needed to be able to speak. With my left arm out of commission, I wouldn't be able to write anything I wanted to say. So I had to talk, to adjust and practise.

People were just lucky that I hadn't tried to sing yet. Now that was something that would definitely have to wait until I was healed to test. From the sound of my speech, I knew it wasn't going to be pretty.

That was the one thing I was truly mourning, really. I'd _just_ healed enough to start playing the guitar well again. Now I was back to healing and dealing with new scars that would restrict my movements. At least then I'd been able to sing instead of play, but now I couldn't do either.

Esme would be devastated. She was always so excited to hear me play and sing for her.

Esme's husband, the person in the room that I'd let my mind slip away from - _oops -_ glided across the small space in my room with a sort of grace that I'd never be able to achieve.

The Good Doctor came to visit me almost every day. Having the Doctor's company was nice. Carlisle had a way of showing his worry without twisting it into pity. It was refreshing when the last visit I'd had was Patty Gerandy mourning the loss of my pretty face for me.

Carlisle looked tired. He had dark purple bags under his dark eyes, and his hair and suit were both dishevelled. Someone had just come from a long shift. "If you're tired, you don't have to come see me, you know. How long was your shift today, anyway? Go home and sleep, Carlisle." The man deserved his bed more than he deserved being saddled with my less than stellar company.

"Nonsense," he dismissed, slicking a wayward tendril of blond hair back as he lowered himself into the guest seat. "How have you been today, dear?"

He didn't mean generally. Doctor Ice Cube couldn't go a day without doctoring me if he tried. "I hurt, but the drugs are the good stuff. I wouldn't be able to feel it if the bear sat on me right now." The bear. That was the story Sam had given when he'd rushed me to the hospital. The two of us had been out in the woods camping, a cute date night, when a bear had come across our camp. I hadn't been so lucky in that encounter.

Bear: 1  
Peggy: 0

Carlisle gave a crooked half-smile, humouring my own poor attempt of humour. "That's good to hear. And your stitches? Have you had any irritation in them?"

"Carlisle," I scolded lightly, moving to sit up. Carlisle was right at my elbow, helping me up and getting comfortable. "I've been here before. I couldn't deal with the constant doctor questions then. I can't deal now, either. Leave the Doctor at the door."

"I might as well not step into the room at all," he rebuked.

Both of us knew that that wouldn't happen.

I let out a huff that was _almost_ a chuckle. I don't know how long we were going to have this argument for. I think it was the longest standing argument I'd ever had besides the Viggo Mortensen/Orlando Bloom hotness debate I had with Chrissy. Carlisle would never just be able to leave his Doctor at the door. He never would be able to. It was part of his charm. "Sit down. You're in danger of becoming a helicopter mom."

He was the one to give a weak chuckle this time as he took a seat again. "Are you okay?" he repeated, dark eyes piercing me. He wasn't asking about any stitches or bandages this time around.

"I'm fine," I assured. "This wasn't-" It wasn't self-inflicted. Not this set of scars. "I'm not in any danger with this, Carlisle, I promise." This wasn't an easy situation. My boyfriend had mauled me almost to death and was avoiding me because of it. But it wasn't a situation that was going to beat me. I'd been through worse. Much worse. _This_ wouldn't be what offs me.

"I think you might be, Peggy." He reached out to curl his cool hands around my unbandaged one. He barely shifted the IV stuck in the back of it. "That _bear-_ I think it might be affecting you more than you want to let on, or more than you're aware right now." He'd said bear strangely, I realised with a little narrowing of my free eye. I'd been made to wear a patch over my other eye, to keep it closed and relaxed while the wounds around it healed. He said bear like he wasn't quite convinced.

I wasn't too surprised. He knew I was a camper. He knew that I knew the usual bear spots inside out. It would have to be a real freak accident for me to camp in an area with an aggressive bear in the vicinity. Sometimes bears stumble on camps, but it took a lot for them to attack, and he knew the story. He knew that I'd been the one to be attacked, not my currently MIA boyfriend, that I had told him about. He knew my bear knowledge, and he knew me.

He didn't believe the story.

I didn't blame him. But I couldn't tell him what really happened, so he would have to go on in his utter disbelief.

"Maybe," I conceded. I had to be realistic here. This could be a delayed reaction. It wasn't unheard of to be strong after a trauma, and break down weeks or even months later. It _could_ happen, even if I was feeling strong and convinced that it wouldn't now. But now I didn't feel it. I didn't feel the hopelessness and fear that I'd felt before, the last time.

This situation hadn't come around because I'd spent months hiding fears and letting them fester. This wasn't my own weakness rearing its ugly head to bring me down. This had been a freak accident that I couldn't have done anything to control or prevent.

It wasn't the same as it was with Cane.

That fact in itself made me believe that I wouldn't have the same awful reactions to it.

"But for now I'm safe, Carlisle. I am, I promise."

Again, he didn't look too convinced, but he gave my hand a gentle squeeze, a reassurance. Then his lips lifted in a dazzling half-smile. Conversation over. Change of subject. "Emmett sends his wishes for a quick recovery. He doesn't feel right causing so much trouble for Esme when you're not at her elbow threatening to teach him a lesson."

* * *

"-to which Alice felt gravely wronged by. I'm not quite sure I'd seen Edward run so fast in all our years to-" Carlisle cut himself off, dark eyes cutting sharply to the door just before a knock came.

Jared Cameron stepped into the room jauntily. "How's my favourite-" Like Carlisle, he cut off sharply, eyes settling on Carlisle. "Oh." His jovial tone cut short. All at once he looked tense. "You have company."

"Yes," Carlisle answered for me, short and sharp in a way that I wasn't sure I'd ever heard him before. He was usually so pleasantly sociable with _everyone._ "She does."

Hell in a handbasket, what was going on? I'd never seen either of them look so uncomfortable around other people.

Jared, I think, had made the top of the list of the most cheerful people I knew. Since I'd been admitted to the hospital, Jared had come over every day with gifts of food - usually muffins with a jibe about Quileute magic blueberries - jokes, and great company. He'd definitely made this stay a lot better than it could have been. I had desperately needed someone like Jared last time I was in here.

Carlisle wasn't as outwardly cheerful as Jared always was, but he was always mild-mannered and sociable. I'd never seen him take such a strong disliking to anyone on first meet. He had a way of never being sharp with anyone, but the three measly words he'd said to Jared were quite unpleasant.

They were _both_ acting weirdly tense and out of character actually, and I really didn't like it. The easiest way to fix the situation was to separate them. That was my usual fix-all for people not getting along. Who cared if that was the tactic I used for the six-year-olds I taught? It was efficient.

"Carlisle, it's getting quite late. Esme must be getting worried," I hinted. Carlisle hadn't text or called Esme while he was here with me, and we'd been talking for closing in on two hours now. I was all up for the company, but I knew Esme was a chronic worrier. Not knowing why Carlisle was a couple hours later for his shift home (when he wasn't working the emergency room) was definitely on the list of things she'd worry about.

Though, I supposed, I wouldn't be surprised if she knew that he was visiting me.

The blond nodded, his dark eyes flickering back to me. "Yes, you're right. It is getting quite late." He drew himself to his feet and brushed imaginary dust from his trousers. It was a habit of his. I didn't think Carlisle even knew how to get dirty, but he was always brushing some imaginary dirt off himself. He was one of the cleanest people I knew. The others I knew were all part of the Cullen clan anyhow. They were all just incredibly tidy people. Except maybe Emmett. He was about as rough and tumble and mucky as any of the kids I taught, when he wasn't being pushed back into line by Esme or Rosalie.

"Give my love to everyone," I gave in way of parting as Carlisle collected his briefcase and readjusted his coat over his chest.

"Of course. They'll certainly send their well-wishes back."

Carlisle left then, with a tense look at Jared over his shoulder, which was equally reciprocated by the teen.

It wasn't until the door swung closed that Jared seemed to thaw out. He turned back to me with a grin, holding up a brightly coloured tupperware box. "I'm starting to feel like your dealer here, but Allison made you some cornbread she wanted me to bring over."

"Sam's mom?" I hadn't actually met Allison Uley yet, but I'd heard plenty about her from Sam, and I was more than worshipping at her alter with all the baked goods Sam had plied me with over the months. I still hadn't managed to get any of her recipes yet, though. Sam was right about her keeping them close to her heart. I hadn't even had a sniff of a recipe yet.

"Yep." Jared dropped heavily into the seat that Carlisle had occupied, nose wrinkling a little. He straightened out, though, and sat the box down on the bed beside me, peeling back the lid with a satisfying pop.

I picked up a small chunk and carefully took a bite, trying to confine it to my right cheek as I chewed. "And have you seen Sam while you've been at the Uley homestead?"

Jared had always found a way of avoiding bringing up Sam, or sidestepping him when I bought him up. This was no exception, because instead of giving me a solid answer, he gave a half-hearted shrug. "So, I was watching this thing on TV last night, and-"

 _"Jared."_ His drabbling came to a stop and he looked up at me warily. "I need to see him, Jared. He can't just-" Do this. "Then disappear. I need to see him. You need to tell him that I want to see him." I bit the inside of my lip, then grimacd as that stretched my cheek. Ouch. "Tell him that if he doesn't, I'm discharging myself and coming down to La Push myself."

I'd damn well do it, as well. Sam knew that. I wasn't sure whether Jared was convinced I would, though.

Still, he gave a slow, reluctant nod. "He's... not in a good place, Peg. But I'll tell him."

He wasn't in a good place, huh? I couldn't blame him, but I couldn't let him rot in that bad place. I wouldn't let him. He needed to be dragged up and out and face the world. The first step there was facing me, no matter how much he didn't want to.

"Good." I gave a careful nod. "So, what were you watching last night?"

He perked up a little, thankful for the drag back to more pleasant conversation. "Okay, so, there was this documentary about wolves, right? Did you know that-"

* * *

"There is no way on Earth I'm letting you come in here and make me sit through Lord of the Rings right now," I scoffed into the phone. "I already feel so inadequate when I look at Viggo. How am I gonna feel looking like a mummy, huh?"

Chrissy's own scoff came over the phone that I held carefully against my ear. "Please, you've got like, one of the hottest boyfriends around. You can't give me that shit about feeling inadequate any more. Have you _seen_ that boy? He'd beat Viggo any day. Not quite as hot as my Orlando, though."

Well, she was right. Sam did beat Viggo. That I couldn't deny.

But no, I couldn't say I had seen him recently. Three days after pinning Jared down with that promise, Sam still hadn't showed up.

I was beginning to forget how the bastard looked.

"Yes, yes, Orlando Bloom's the hottest thing in existence," I agreed dully. Gag me with a spoon.

"You've got that right. Now, do you want me to bring over Fellowship, or should we get right down to it and watch Return?"

I sighed softly, leaning back against my cushions, eyes turning to the door when I hear the rattle of the doorknob. I froze, not quite sure I was believing what I was seeing.

Sam stood just outside the door, peering back at me through the big glass pane in it, looking just as frozen and shocked as I was.

"I-I've gotta go."

I hung up and dropped the phone, despite Chrissy's protests at the sudden end in conversation.

Still frozen, Sam didn't move until I raised my right hand and gestured for him to come in.

It had been almost three weeks, and he was finally coming to see me.

 _Finally._

* * *

 **Okay, so I don't have much of an excuse for why this took so long to write. I had half of it written since before I posted the last chapter. The rest just didn't come to me easily. But we're here now, and we've got something going on. We're moving the train towards angst central, which will definitely be happening in the next chapter.**

* * *

 **angel897**

Thank you! This chapter isn't too thrilling, but I'm hoping that a new chapter is at least a little exciting!

.

 **Guest**

Thank you! I'm sorry it took so long to update.

.

 **Imaginemotherofdragons**

Thank you so much! Peggy and Chrissy's friendship is actually somewhat based off a very close friendship I have. I've found drawing from real life as much as I can in the midst of vampires and werewolves helps me keep things as realistic as I can. I'm glad you enjoy her sense of humour! The humour well was a bit dry in this chapter, and might well be in the next, but I'm sure it'll be flowing again soon. Peggy's lost without her sarkiness. I hope you enjoyed this chapter!

.

 **DTaylor201989**

Thank you so much1 I hope you enjoyed the update!

.

 **AllyCat12**

I'm sorry it took so long to update. I hope you enjoy it, though!

.

 **Daisy**

No, Sam isn't still with Leah. They broke up. That will be bought up again in an upcoming chapter. Peggy can't escape the backlash that decision will b.

.

 **Guest**

I didn't really enjoy writing it much, myself, but I think it was an important part of Sam's background in Twilight, and it tells a lot about the way it is. I think taking that away from him, even when removing Emily from the situation, would be a bad decision.

.

 **Ruby**

I really like that headcanon. I love the way Eddie Spears looks, but I think I'm standing with Chaske Spencer as the face-cast for Spears is _definitely_ a good choice, though!


	10. Chapter 10

**And we're back!**

 **I hope you enjoy this chapter. I certainly enjoyed it. Things are looking up for our favourite couple**!

* * *

 **Surrender  
** Twilight

Sam Uley / OC

* * *

 _I have found the paradox that if I love until it hurts, there is no more hurt, only more love._

\- Mother Theresa

* * *

He barely made it inside the door before he dropped to his knees. The look of broken horror on his face turned my stomach.

I shifted to sit up more comfortably. "You're here." My whisper was drowned out by the little-bit-too-loud bang of the door slamming shut behind Sam. He was here, finally. After all these weeks of trying to bend Jared's arm to get Sam here, he had finally gotten here.

Now... what did I say?

I had a whole monologue planned. I'd practised it in the shitty mirror bolted to the wall above the sink by the door since I'd been well enough to get out of bed and stand in front of it. And now, looking down at his horrified eyes holding me, every single syllable flew out the window. Every single one.

"Look at you," he croaked.

I felt a pang in my chest. I knew that look, that croak, that horror.

"Don't you do it, Sam." I scooted to the edge of the bed, swinging my legs over the side. I pushed myself up with my right arm, being extra careful not to move my arm too much. The stitches had been removed, but the wounds were still raised and angry, and from what the doctor said, still susceptible to reopening if I was too rough on them, so I needed to be careful. The last thing I wanted was to get more stitches. "Don't blame yourself for this."

"How?" Oh _God,_ his voice _cracked._

I reached out for him with my right hand when I was close enough and he flinched back, skittering back until his back hit the door with a bang that had the door rattling in its frame. "Look at you. Look at what I- What I-" He broke down, tears spilling over his cheeks.

With his back pressed against the door, he didn't have anywhere to go. I dropped to my knees in front of him, wincing when the wounds on my thigh stretched with the movement. His claws had raked down my arm and caught a small part of my hip and thigh. They'd gotten the tail end of the swing and were the lightest, already mostly healed compared to the wounds on my face and shoulder, but stretching them would hurt for a good long while, was my bet.

Something shifted in my peripheral and my head shot up, waving off the nurse that was hovering curiously at the doorway.

She sent me a disapproving look at tittered before she disappeared down the hallway.

Damn nurses.

I shook away my annoyance and turned back at the problem. Now was not the time to get distracted by trivialities, as much as I wanted to be distracted from what I was certain was going to be a clusterfuck of a situation.

"Sam." I laid my injured hand carefully on his shoulder and raised my right hand to carefully wipe some of the tears off his face. He was sobbing so freely. I think if I cried like that around someone - no, I _know;_ I had enough experience with Esme and Chrissy - that I'd at least cover my face, try to save some of my dignity. He hadn't even done that, just sobbed so openly in front of me.

Taking a deep, steadying breath, even as I felt hot tears prick at my own eyes, I shifted, until my back was pressed half into the doorframe and half into the wall, shoulder pressed into Sam's arm.

We sat like that together in relative silence; I didn't utter a word, and Sam just sobbed until he had exhausted himself enough to fall quiet enough that his crying was just the occasional hiccuping breath.

"Why?" His voice was so much rougher than usual that at first I wasn't even sure I had heard the word correctly. He sounded more like a broken croak than a word.

"Why, what, honey?"

"Why am I still here? Why haven't you-?" He cleared his throat and heaved a wet sigh. I had a moment of worrying whether he would start crying again. "If I were you, I'd have told me to leave. To never come back. To go to Hell, kill myself. Anything but let me within a hundred miles of you."

I swallowed thickly. "Good thing you're not me. You'd never suit the hair."

We lapsed into silence. My weak attempt at humour wasn't appreciated.

My gaze fixated on the bright yellow balloon tied to my bed. It was bobbing weakly in the breeze from the open window, on its last legs. My class had come over to visit me in the second week being here, after I'd recovered a little bit. They'd bought more handmade cards and little gifts than I could handle. I'd kept the biggest card and the balloon, and had Chrissy take the rest of the stuff back to my place. The box that it had all been put in was probably sitting on the coffee table gathering dust right now.

I don't know how long we sat there in the quiet.

"The shifting. You told me it was emotional, that you don't have much control over it." I tried to remember the hazy conversation we had just before Christmas, when the two of us had sat in the woods and he had explained being a Werewolf to me. Most of my attention had been captured by him actually phasing in front of me, and telling me about the imprint, about why he loved me, but I could recall some other things he said.

And since that night, since we'd started dating, I'd seen him shift, seen him almost shift. Things got him angry, and he couldn't control it. I knew that.

"If anything this-" I raised my bandaged arm then dropped it back into my lap. "-is my fault. I knew my story would make you emotional. You'd have to be a fucking monster to not react to it. I know that emotion sets it off, and I knew that you'd get angry, upset. But I told you anyway." I let out a deep sigh and shook my head. "My fault."

"Your fault? You've got the be crazy if you think this is your fault."

I snorted, and immediately regretting it when it shifted the muscles in my face. Ouch. "Of course it's not my fucking fault, Sam. I'm a lot of things, but I'm not self-depreciative like that. But that feeling, that frustration? Thinking I'm crazy, stupid, for thinking it's my fault? That's exactly how I feel knowing that you think it's _your_ fault."

He turned sharply to me, but I stared ahead, reading and rereading the silverly _'GET WELL SOON'_ on the deflating balloon, distracting myself enough to keep my face straight. I wasn't going to crack.

"Of course it's my fault! How could it not be?" He was shaking.

"It was a freak accident, Sam." My voice was steady. Ten points to Griffyndor. Steeling myself, I turned my gaze up to his. His expression was twisted in a mix of agony and fury. "We could play the blame game until we were both blue in the face. Is it my fault for telling you the story? Is it your fault for reacting to it? Is it Cane's fault for doing this to me? Is it the spirit warriors fault for passing their genes down to you?"

Sam was smart for not answering my rhetorics, staying quiet.

The fury was leaving his whiskey-eyes too.

Good.

"The answer is yes. We're all at fault in some cosmic everyone-in-the-world-fucks-up bullshit way. So we're not doing it. We're not playing the game and ripping our own hearts out over it. We're going to be adults; ask the questions that need to be asked, and answer them. No games, no beating about the bush because I've done fucking around with the elephant in the room with my boyfriend before, Sam, and that didn't end so hot."

Sam slumped back against the door again, head cracking against the wood. "What questions are there to ask? Exactly how far you want me away from you at all times?"

"How about: do you think it's possible for us to move on from this?"

"What?"

It was me that turned to him this time, sitting with my legs crossed and my hands resting gently in my lap. "Look into the future. Can you still imagine us together, after this has happened? Can you still picture us walking hand-in-hand? Can you still picture the two of us kissing? Can you see yourself waking up in the morning to my face and still being happy?"

He opened his mouth to answer but I raised my hand. He fell quiet, pain shooting across his expression. It was then I realised that I had raised my injured arm and the sight of the stark white bandages hurt him.

"Don't answer now. In-the-moment passion isn't what I want. I need you to think deeply on it and tell me truthfully what you want, what the answer to that question, and all the little unasked questions are. Is it possible?"

I unfolded myself and made a move to stand, reaching out to my bed to help myself up. Sam was already helping me up before I even touched the bed.

I smiled up at him when I was standing. "I'm getting out of here the day after tomorrow. The day after that I'm going to spend the evening on First Beach. You can tell me the answer then, okay?"

He was hesitant. I could see all the questions he had himself in his eyes, but he didn't speak, just nodded curtly and gently squeezed my uninjured shoulder.

I pushed up onto tiptoes and pressed a kiss to his cheek. "I'll see you there, Sam."

He was barely out of the room when the nurse that had been peering through the large window in the door earlier swept in. "How are you feeling, honey?"

The bed bounced slightly under my weight when I sat back down on it.

That had to have been one of the shortest conversations I'd had with Sam, but it had to have been the most important. And, while some of the unease I'd felt broiling in me had settled after it, a new pit was forming in my stomach.

How was I feeling?

Nervous, scared even, but honestly? "Good. I feel pretty good."

* * *

I took a deep breath and settled my hands on my hips. "God, I really need to fucking dust in here."

Chrissy huffed behind me, setting my hospital bag down on the floor. "What you need is to relax, yeah? You got attacked by an angry mamma bear. I think you can justify having some time off cleaning your apartment. I mean, you keep it pretty damned spotless. Who cares if you don't dust for a while? You literally just got home from the hospital. I _just_ set your bags down. Chill, will you?"

"I care." I relaxed my akimbo stance and made my way towards the kitchen area, where I kept all my cleaning supplies. "My body's gone to shit, Chris. My house sure as fuck isn't going to."

She heaved a sigh behind me and followed behind me. "Drop the duster, lady, and go sit on the couch. Put on one of your shitty Irish-y films and relax. I'll dust, then I'll cook you up something nice with whatever hasn't gone bad in your fridge. Then we're gonna watch our favourite." She waggled her brows at me as she took the duster and can of polish from my hands.

A little smile curled my lips. "You're the best, Chris."

"I know." She gave me an overly bright smile and shooed me off to the couch.

I ended up flicking through the box of handmade cards from the kids had given to me while Chrissy bustled around. It was actually almost scary to see how many pictures of bears the kids had drawn on or in their cards. I had to laugh at some of the drawings and messages. Only kids could say some of the blunt things that were scribbled into the cards with barely legible writing.

Had whoever was covering for me just not checked through them all?

"I love kids, Chris."

"Mmm, me too," she agreed, running the duster over my TV. "Don't think I could eat a whole one, though."

I snorted. Trust Chris.

It was so good to be home.

* * *

The drive down to La Push was nice and quiet.

The walk across First Beach was decidedly less so.

People whispered. It wasn't like I hadn't expected it. I knew the area, I knew the people.

The first time I'd gotten out of hospital, almost a year and a half ago now, I had moved back to Forks right away. Every single person I passed had heard about what had happened and had something to whisper about what had happened.

From what Jared had told me, I'd actually been carried from Third Beach into La Push in the desperate rush to get me medical help. Like Forks, it didn't take long for news to spread, clearly, if the whispering and staring was anything to go by. Though, they could just be staring at my face. The bandages on the lighter wounds were gone. My face had been worked on so extensively that it was pretty well healed, more so, at least, than my arm, that had been deemed a little less important. The wounds were closed much neater on my face, but the scarring was pretty horrific. There was plenty to whisper about.

But, this wasn't my first rodeo, and I kept my head held high as I walked past a plethora of whispering teens, who had clearly decided that First Beach was the perfect place to be after school had let out on a Friday afternoon.

 _Oh my God, have you seen her face?  
_ _Isn't she the woman that got mauled by the bear by Third Beach?  
If I ever looked like that, I'd have the doctors put me down. God!  
Poor dear.  
She lives in Forks, right? What's her name again.  
Oh yeah, I think I recognise her! Uh... Peggy, right? She was all cut up after that thing with her boyfriend, remember? Tried to kill herself.  
Shit, you're right!  
How fucked up can her life get?  
_

That last one was a good question. One I still wasn't sure I wanted the answer to.

It wasn't long before I found a nice sturdy driftwood log to perch on, with the woods at my back and the encroaching sea right in front of me.

Watching the waves splash along the rocky beach, and the dogs race by chasing each other, was so relaxing, I once again found myself lazily berating myself for not coming here often enough.

Dating Sam, I had every opportunity to spend as much time as I could around the beautiful La Push, but we hardly ever came here. We spent most of our time together in Forks.

If things went the way I hoped they would, I'd have to make a point of suggesting we spend more time on his home turf. It was too damned gorgeous to stay away from. As much as I loved my time trecking through the woods around this area (something I was likely going to have to give up again for a little while) sitting on the beach and just watching the world go by was just as peaceful.

Jesus, was I twenty-five or ninety-five?

I said hello to three curious dogs that came up to me before someone sat down beside me. I knew who it was even before I felt the heat of his arm seep through the layers of my clothing. He was, naturally, wearing just a sleeveless hoodie. The day that man dressed for the season was the day I ate my fucking guitar and flossed with the strings.

"Did you think on it?"

My eyes turned up to peek at him through the curtain of my wild curls. He was staring right ahead, just like I had been a few minutes ago, hands resting on his knees in that same tense pose he always used when he was trying to think things through and ground himself. "You know, I did," he rumbled in return, the muscles in his shoulders bunching tighter.

Yeah, that was kind of a stupid question, admittedly. But, still. "Well?"

"I talk, you listen, okay? You had your turn at the hospital."

My mouth immediately opened to retaliate, but my lips just quivered soundlessly and I nodded.

Yeah, that was- That was fair. I nodded.

He nodded back, though he was still looking ahead. Keeping his distance, processing.

My stomach rolled and anxiety pulsed through me. Some silly school girl part of me had hoped that it would be easy. That he'd sweep me up off my feet and declare that nothing was more important than me. I thought that silly schoolgirl part of me had died that first time Cane had hit me. I was sure it had, but it was slowly resurfacing with Sam, and I didn't know whether I wanted to try and nurture it, or mercy kill it.

"I don't think I can move past this. I-" His hands clenched up into fists. "You don't want to play the blame game, but I can't just ignore it, Peggy. I feel- I feel like a fucking hypocrite."

I chewed on the inside of my lip. I'd never heard Sam wear before. That was... that was kind of weird actually. I didn't know many people that didn't swear. I swore like it was going out of fashion. It held a lot more weight when Sam did it, though. It drew me up short, made me stop and take real note.

"I got so angry at Cane for causing those marks. How could he do that to you? You're so perfect and he just-" He growled, a dark noise that rumbled in his chest. His hands were clenched tightly on his knees, but he wasn't shaking. "Then I go and leave scars - _worse_ scars. You can't hide those away under long sleeves."

A quiet grunt left my mouth, and my hands reflexively moved to tug at the ends of my sleeves. I'd spent so much damned energy in the past year trying to keep my scars hidden away, like some dirty secret that everyone already knew. The scars made me feel sick. Even now, knowing they were there, that Sam was talking about them, I could almost physically feel them itch. I wanted to scratch at them, gouge them from my skin.

But these new scars? I hadn't felt the same about them. I wasn't going out of my way to try and cover the scars on my neck and face. It'd be easy enough to upgrade from long sleeves to turtlenecks, and though I hoped I was long-through with my I-hate-the-world goth phase, I could probably rock the side-bangs cover-half-my-face thing again in a I'm-in-my-twenties-but-not-quite-ready-to-let-go-of-teenage-rebellion way. It wouldn't be cool by any stretch, but it could possibly work. But my shirt was a low boat neck today with bandages peeking out my arm, and my hair was down and wild, but not covering much of my face; neither were covering as many of the scars as they _could_ be.

I didn't stare at them in the mirror. I couldn't feel the black mood settle into my very bones.

Honestly, these scars felt like any other scrape or bruise I'd gotten. I felt about as strong about it as I did the little scar on my palm from impaling my hand with a metal tent peg when I was fourteen, or the bite mark on my ankle from a bastard of a nippy dog when I was twenty. The scars were big and _there_ but they were just scars, just another page in the story of my life. Cane's scars were different. I looked at them and I saw my weakness, every one of my flaws working to paint the horrors of my weak-willed personality for everyone to see.

"I just don't think I can get over that."

I slumped, eyes fixing hard on a dog trying to stalk a bird. The tears stung worse than the salt air stung at the wounds on my face.

His answer was no.

It was sheer force of will that saved me the embarrassment of actually sobbing.

"But you said something at the hospital that I can't get out of my head. You asked me if I could see myself waking up in the future and being happy, seeing your face." He turned to me, reaching out and grasping my unbandaged hand. "I can't forgive myself, but that? I can't see my future _without_ it, Peg."

The sob came harsh and loud and my hand flew up to cover my mouth.

Holy _fuck_.

He cupped my cheek, the rough pad of his thumb wiping tears from my cheeks. He looked _pained,_ withdrawn and hurt, but he leaned forwards, forehead pressing firmly against mine. The heat of his skin burned my own wind-chilled forehead.

"One day at a time," I hiccuped, grasping blindly at the shoulders of his hoodie. "We'll take one day at a time until you forgive yourself. Okay?"

"Okay."

I sniffled and smiled. It stretched the scars around my mouth, and that hurt.

I couldn't give a single flying fuck.

"I love you."

"I love you, too, Peggy. I love you so much."

* * *

 **I kinda felt like I was hitting a brick wall at the end of the chapter. I think its been entirely too long since I've read books. I'm forgetting what the characters are like. In response to this, I'm going to take a little break from writing this, to reread the last three books, and get myself back into the Twilight space, back into knowing Sam and the pack. Hopefully, the break won't be too long, and I'll be back to writing lickety-split! I know I'll find some spark and inspiration to write again rereading New Moon at least, so you definitely won't be waiting too long.**

* * *

 **Hanna -** The majority of the Elders aren't impressed, Harry Clearwater least of all, for obvious reasons. That'll be broached within the next few chapters, hopefully.

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 **Andrea -** I can't either! I have so many scene ideas planned for when the two move in together and the pack gets a little bigger. I'm very excited for it.

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 **Karen -** My characters aren't always the most likeable, I agree, and no one likes everyone, but Chrissy isn't going anywhere any time soon. She's an important part of Peggy's life.

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 **Francesca -** Peggy isn't the sort of person to back down when she's being wronged. Cane was a special case in that situation, but he won't let other people push her around because shes not what they want her to be. That's not who my Peggy Lee is.

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 **Quinn -** Of course you're all allowed your own opinions. I encourage it! It actually warms my heart that people are already making these opinion and headcanons around my story. And, honestly, if I hadn't started this fic because of scenes I'd had that centred around Chaske Spencer specifically, I'd be more than happy to imagine Eddie Spears in his place for sure. Spears trumps Spencer in the looks department any day of the week

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 **Opal -** I'm glad you're liking it, and I totally agree. We need way more Sam fics!

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 **AllyCatt12 -** I hope you enjoyed this one!

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 **When I Make It Shine -** I love Jared as it is. He's sweet. Sweeter still when he's toting cornbread and muffins!

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 **Ana Kookie -** Haha, I'm not sorry. I hope this chapter made up for the way I left things this chapter, at least. I hope this chapter came soon enough. It's not always easy to find the time to write nowadays, but I'm trying hard to keep this fic updated as soon as I can. I think we all need a good dose of Peggy in our lives. I'm glad you like her and Sam together so much. It means Im doing something right!


	11. Chapter 11

**It's been a while, huh?**

 **I have no defence. I intended to start reading New Moon and start writing my next chapter right away, but it didn't work out that way. It took a lot more time than I wanted to get to the point where I felt okay with writing this chapter, and I'm gonna be honest and say that I still don't feel entirely confident with my characterisation at this point, but nothing ventured, nothing gained. Let's do this!**

* * *

"We should spend the day on the beach."

Sam hummed quietly, the vibrations running up through my fingers as they played over his bare chest. "Why?" He cracked an eye open, whiskey rolling down to find me, perched on his chest, looking down at him eagerly.

Why? Really, Sam? My lips puckered into a little pout. "We've spent the past couple weeks kicking around Forks. I'm getting kinda bored of it. We have the choice of going up to Port Angeles, or to La Push. I know which ones easier, and prettier. It's been ages since we've goe to First Beach."

These past few weeks since we'd had our reconciliation on First Beach, the last time I'd visited La Push, Sam had done a pretty good job at trying to baby me and keep me safe in Forks town. He worked during the day most weekdays, but evenings and weekends were our time, and he liked to spend that time with me, mostly in the house. I'd noticed that he was trying to keep me wrapped up in a safe environment. I hadn't fought it much. My scars were still very delicate and I still struggled with a lot. I was getting better daily, though. I'd started to relearn to write last week, and my handwriting was almost as legible as the six-year-olds that I was going to start teaching again after the summer.

I got another rumbling sigh from my boyfriend. "Why don't we spend the day on the couch? I know you wanted to watch some cartoon films, right? Howls Moving Castle?"

"I want to go for a walk more. Feel the sand between my toes, smell the fresh air. Not that I don't love a good movie day, but all I can smell right now is your BO, and I gotta say, Sam, it ain't a great smell." I sniffed and wrinkled my nose teasingly. He retaliated with a huff and an equally as playful scowl. "Come on." I patted his chest and tried to give my best puppy dog eyes. Apparently, they aren't so effective against an actual canine, who'd have thought? "I really just want to spend the day at the beach. _Please._ "

Our stalemate lasted way longer than I was comfortable with. Was he actually gonna say no?

Thankfully for me, though, his head dropped back against his pillow and his plush lips pursed. "Fine, fine. We can go to the beach."

He didn't sound happy about that, though, and my brows drew together. Sam wasn't the sort of person to be unhappy about something unless he had a good reason to be. Despite his big, buff and stern countenance, he was a pretty happy chipper guy at times. Intense, yes, but not unhappy. "Why don't you want me to go to La Push?"

That was obviously the issue here. We'd gone for walks around Forks often enough over the past few weeks that it wasn't actually leaving the house he didn't want me to do, and he had gotten a look in his eye that said that he'd rather do that than go to La Push when I'd mentioned Port Angeles. So what was it about La Push that my boyfriend was suddenly against?

His lips pursed tighter, like he was debating telling me why, but he gave a little sigh and wrapped his arm around my bare waist, fingers stroking over the pretty nicely healed scars he'd left on my hip. "People have started talking about you there, and it'd not nice."

I'd become gossip fodder in La Push. _Colour me surprised_. I'd known that _before_ I'd noticed that he'd implemented this silent ban on La Push. When we'd reconciled there, I'd heard plenty of whispers about me and my life from the regulars on the beach, people from La Push and Forks alike. And I was so used to having some silly rumour or whisper in the air here that I was pretty much immune to them. "Sticks and stones, Sam. I can ignore a few whispers to enjoy some time on the beach."

I had to ignore whispers to spend any time _anywhere_. Especially now with these scars so visible, with nothing but a bad emo fringe revival to hide them, which I was happily staying away from. I felt like if I revived that awful fringe, I'd have to start listening to Three Days Grace again, and that was something I really didn't want to return to.

He didn't look so convinced about my ability to let words go over my head, but his jaw wasn't set, so he was allowing it.

A grinned at him, pushing up so I could plant a kiss on his lips. "Awesome. I love you. Now go get a shower. I wasn't kidding about that BO."

* * *

Sam was tense before we even reached La Push. His grip flexed on the wheel, and the poor thing groaned in protest. I was still too tender to think about driving so Sam got the front seat of my beloved Toyota BJ40, a fact that he loved. He adored my beast of a car almost as much as I did.

"Chill out, babe." I patted a bulging forearm gently, silently suggesting he ease up before he left his fingerprints on the steering wheel. My poor car didn't deserve that sort of treatment because my boyfriend was nervous about a little bit of gossip. Poor thing had suffered from neglect over the past month. She didn't need GBH on top of that.

He forced himself to relax. "I don't want them to upset you," he admitted quietly.

I couldn't help the little smile that curled my lips. "I appreciate it, babe, but I'm not really the sort that succumbs to gossip. You've seen Forks. You know what it's like." He had seen Forks, and he'd heard the whispers and rumours that existed about me. He'd had to suffer them first-hand when an exuberant Patty Gerandy had congratulated him on being such a good, strong boyfriend for staying with me after my accident while we'd been out for a walk by the old steam train. I think he'd been too shocked by that interaction to get angry at it at the time.

He hesitated for a moment. He knew what I said was right. I could let things pass over my head much more easily than he could, but there was still something niggling him.

"Some of these people are my friends. People I know. I don't like what they're saying about you."

Now I was the one to hesitate. "You can't..." A bit brutal there, Peg. "If we worry about what people are going to say, babe, then we're always going to live worrying about leaving the house, in case someone says something bad about us." I squeezed his forearm. "There's always going to be some whisper about us, Sam. People can't help themselves."

There was always going to be something. Someone commenting on my looks, my tattoos, my scars. Sam's height. The fact that we were so obviously different races. There was always going to be some problem with us that people would whisper about.

"We can't let their whispers dictate our lives, though. If we change who we are because of what they say, they've won." I was too competitive to let other people win like that. "Let them whisper, and lets enjoy our lives the way we want to, yeah?"

Sam wasn't quite so good at letting words roll off him as I was, but he could learn to be. He'd probably have to learn to be. There was always going to be something. I wasn't about to let other people's whispers ruin what Sam and I had. But what if Sam couldn't deal with that? I didn't want to lose what we had and I know Sam didn't either, but sometimes whispers got too much. I knew that well.

Sam was strong, though. So strong. I didn't have to be worried.

Did I?

"Yeah," he agreed, lips tugging up into a weak smile. "Let's enjoy the beach."

I didn't have to be worried. Sam was strong.

* * *

I rolled over on the towel I had spread out for myself, giggling as a dog came to greet me with a wet nose against my cheek. "Hello pooch." I sat up to avoid being smothered by enthusiastic dog, still ruffling the shaggy coat of the pooch happily as he tried to have a good go of licking my face off.

I was sure if Sam wasn't enjoying a swim in the sea with some buds that he'd met down here on the beach, he would have probably had something to say about this, but he wasn't here. What he didn't know about wouldn't hurt him. I wanted some puppy love.

My appreciation of the friendly dog was cut brutally short by a chilling burst running down my spine. "Jesus _fuck!_ "

The dog yelped and pounded off down the beach to his owner.

I gasped in shock as ice-cold, fizzy soda drizzled down over my face.

What the actual _fuck?_

Someone had just- Had someone really just poured soda over my head?!

"What are you doing here, you bitch?"

It took me a moment to recognise the face scowling down at me, but when I did the cold fury that was bubbling up inside of me fizzled somewhat. Leah. Sam's Leah. Only, she wasn't Sam's Leah, was she? Sam and I had been together for months.

Leah stood above me, though, whether she was Sam's Leah or not completely inconsequential. She loomed above me sporting the most bitter scowl I had ever seen, holding an empty solo cup (the contents of which was seeping into the thin fabric of my long-sleeved shirt), and dressed in a pretty white bikini and lacy skirt combination that didn't go at all with the face of thunder she currently had.

"How dare you come here, bitch? Stealing my man wasn't enough? You have to come and steal my haunts too?"

My mouth continued to hang open dumbly for a long moment before it snapped shut sharply. I pushed my wet hair back out of my face and pushed myself to my feet. Leah was tall, extremely tall for a woman, but I still had a good three or four inches on her.

I wasn't planning on starting a fight, but I wasn't going to curl into a little ball and let her bully me.

"I'm here enjoying the beach." _With_ my _boyfriend,_ I thought maliciously. I wasn't quite cruel enough to tack that on to what I said, though. She shouldn't have acted so fucking bitchy, but I could get the anger. I really could. Sam was going to propose to this woman, for fucks sake, and I'd swooped in and stolen him from her, basically. I could definitely understand the bitchy attitude.

That didn't mean I was happy with her taking out that bitchiness on me.

Her dark eyes searched my face, twisting in disgust and a little bit of discomfort the more I kept my gaze on her. Let her flounder some.

"I don't _get it_." Oh God, her voice _cracked._ Her expression drew pinched as she tried to recover from the bout of emotions. The snarl returned in full force. "You're an ugly, scarred up-" She spat a word that I didn't understand. Quileute, I guess, and from the way others had started to turn around to watch, not something pleasant to call someone.

After all that bolster in the car on the way over here, the insult did sting. I was used to insults being whispered behind my back, loud enough that I could hear, but not spoken right to my face. Those were easy to ignore. People that didn't have the balls to say what they wanted to my face didn't deserve my attention at all. But this had a lot more balls in it. She was insulting me right to my face. A small part of me was impressed, an equally small part of me was angry, and a much larger part of me was hurt.

"Yeah, you shouldn't be here after what you did, scarface," someone else called out. A crowd was beginning to form.

Did the expect a fight to break out?

They were going to be severely disappointed.

I licked the inside of my cheek, running my tongue along the scarred lines; a habit I'd developed over the past few weeks. Okay, then, how do I get out of this without seeming like I was pathetic, or starting a fight? I didn't want either option to happen.

"Leah." Both Leah and I turned when her name was called. Sam was striding up the beach with a frown.

"Sam."

I almost felt sorry for the hope that lined Leah's voice. Especially when Sam came level with us and dropped an arm around my shoulders. He pressed a kiss to my temple. "You okay?"

"Fine. I'm fine," I assured. I was. Apart from the sticky coke drying on my skin, I was fine. I leaned into him to assure him that I was indeed as fine as I said I was.

Convinced enough, he turned his attention to Leah. "What the hell's going on?"

"Nothing much," I assured. I wanted the drama over and the expression on her face said that Leah was just gearing up for an almighty row. Not something I was interested in now. Or ever. I'd had so much drama in my life that I was so done with it now. I wasn't letting it seep into my relationship the way Leah looked like she wanted it to. "C'mon, let's head home. I need a shower."

 _Please,_ I thought, _give into me this one time._

"Head to the car," he said instead of agreeing with me. He gave my shoulders a little squeeze. "I'll be with you in a minute."

I bit the inside of my lip. I was caught. If I dragged him away, I was the bad person, keeping him from his ex. I couldn't dictate who he saw and spoke to. I wasn't that person. If I left now, I was the weak girl, doing what her boyfriend said. That wasn't going to earn me brownie points here in La Push. They already had enough apparent fodder to go on. If I stayed, too, I was the overbearing girlfriend that encroached on her man's privacy.

I wasn't a fan of any of the options, but with a suffering sigh, I squeezed his arm then peeled away to pick up the beach bag we had bought with us. "Be quick, okay?"

Sam caught me before I could head up the beach, and pressed a kiss to my lips. "Don't worry. I'll be quick."

My lips kicked up into a half-smile. He was confronting his ex-girlfriend about how she was treating his current girlfriend. How could I not worry about that? It was a shitshow waiting to happen honestly. "See you in a minute."

I held my head high and ignored the slurs and whispers that greeted me from the local populace as I made my way back to the car. I hadn't heard much of this spiel until Leah had started on me, so it looked like Leah's tirade was a catalyst for something worse. Great. Half of La Push didn't like me because I'd snatched up one of their girl's boyfriends. That was going to get awkward. I wasn't going to avoid the place because people didn't like me. Sam still lived here and I was going to come here regardless. I wasn't looking forward to the judgement and whispers, though.

But it wasn't like I wasn't used to it. Forks was just the same at times.

I sighed and dropped my face into my hands when I was in the safety of the passenger seat of my car.

What a clusterfuck.

I don't know how long passed before Sam hauled himself into the driver's side and pulled the keys from the sun visor. I could almost feel the vibrations in the air from his tense form.

"You okay?" I asked in a whisper.

"Fine," he replied, short and sharp.

"Yeah, me either," I replied leaning against the door when Sam started up the car and peeled out of the parking lot. Neither of us was fine right now. Dammit, I should have listened to Sam earlier.

Whispers I could deal with, shitty ex-girlfriends that had every right to be shitty, I couldn't.

* * *

 **And we finally have some Leah, and some repercussions of a paleface stealing an already taken Quileute man. I love Leah and I loved writing the bitchy little almost catfight. Who doesn't enjoy writing a bit of tension, huh? I thrive on it.**

 **I hope you all liked this chapter, and I'm sorry again for how long it's taken me to release it. I really do need to start actively writing again.**

 **Speaking of actively writing, I've had an idea for another fanfic that I'm interested in starting to write. Would any of you guys be interested in reading a Vampire Kisses fanfiction? Vampire Kisses was actually the first novel series that got me into vampires, and the whole supernatural shebang, so I owe a lot to that series, and I would like to write a story for it. Let me know if you'd be interested in reading a VK fanfic if I started writing one.**

* * *

 **AllyCat12 -** I'm sorry? I don't really mean to sucker punch people. I just write. That was a pretty emotional chapter, though. This one's not quite so emotional, but it's nice and charged with tension.

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 **Penelope -** Thank you! I'm sorry it's taken so long to bring out this update. I hope you enjoyed it, though!

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 **Quinn -** No worries! I hope you enjoyed this chapter!

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 **Cassie -** That friendship will definitely be a problem for the wolves, but Peggy isn't the sort to back down easily, so there'll be some good tension there. Hopefully they can clear the air a little there without any major fights.

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 **Gwen -** Aye it does take place before Twilight. The start of this story is about a year before the events of Twilight. At this point in the plot, there's only a few months before Bella moves to Forks, so the Twilight plot is just around the corner.

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 **Suzanne -** I have looked for a celebrity to base Peggy off, but as of yet I still haven't found one. Christina Hendricks is beautiful, but she's too delicate for how I picture Peggy. I think the closest I've found was Penelope Mitchell, but she's still not quite right. Natasha Lyonne is a good contender, too, but also not quite perfect.

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 **Fran -** The scars are on her face. I've had a fair bit of backlash about including the scars on her face, but that was a big source of Sam's pain about being a werewolf, so I didn't want to forgo that.

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 **Imogen -** I agree, it's very harsh, and it won't be something that Peggy or Sam will get over very easily, but I decided to keep them in for Sam and Peggy's development. Maybe I could have omitted them, but a big part of Sam's hatred for being a werewolf and fear of being the Alpha is the fact that he hurt Emily so badly, and that there's always a very visible physical reminder. It's hard for Sam and he needed that to develop the way he does to match the books. Peggy, on the other hand will actually develop more healthily with the scars on her face. It may sound strange right now, but the more time passes in this fic, the more you'll hopefully come to understand that these scars are actually a pretty good thing for Peggy.

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 **Katie -** I totally understand that! I write pretty organically. I tend to let things happen as they happen, with not a lot of planning involved. So when I write dialogue like this, its very natural. I was on just as much of an emotional roller coaster as you was when I was writing it!

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 **Charlene -** Michael Spears is also a very striking man, just as beautiful as Eddie and also a very good choice for Sam. But seeing him myself, I think if I were to place him as someone, I'd maybe place him as Levi Uley in his youth.

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 **Kenna -** Thank you, and I'm sorry it took so long for this update. I hope you enjoy this new chapter, though!

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 **SnowKi -** Here's more for you1 I'm sorry it took so long to deliver!


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